


All We Could And Should Be

by Mack_the_Spoon, Namarie



Series: Bloodlines [4]
Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/M, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-12
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 06:12:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 40,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3925861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mack_the_Spoon/pseuds/Mack_the_Spoon, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Namarie/pseuds/Namarie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With another war on the horizon, Liz and Ressler must navigate threats both at home and abroad while handling changes in their personal lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to our previous fics. Specifically, this takes place after "Close to the Edge". After the first chapter, the rest of the story follows directly after "Closing In".
> 
> Some of these plot lines have actually been written for a while, and then we tweaked them so that they don't completely diverge from the show's canon. Hope you enjoy!

The next development was one that Liz thought would also catch Red off-guard, not just her. It was a couple of weeks since Samar had officially joined Liz's organization. The work day was more than half done, and it had been mostly uneventful. That was why Liz was surprised when Cooper asked to talk to her in his office.

“Sir?” she asked, following him inside.

“Shut the door, Agent Keen,” he told her. When she had done so, he cleared his throat and paused a moment. “I'm going to tell you something, and I hope that we know each other well enough by now to have a conversation about it without anyone overreacting.”

Liz raised her eyebrows. This was quite the unusual beginning. “Of course, sir.”

He nodded. “Good. A while ago, when you went on your vacation suddenly, I asked Agent Ressler if you, he, and Reddington might be involved in some kind of activities outside of work that I should know about. He claimed he had no idea what I was getting at. And since none of my team has given me any real reason to suspect anything I should be worried about, I left it at that.”

Ressler had told her about Cooper's suspicions. Liz kept her face neutral. “Okay. So if you don't think there's anything going on, why are you telling me this?”

“I never said I don't think there's anything going on. In fact, I'm sure there is something.”

She didn't react. “And you think I'll tell you about whatever this is, sir? Because there's nothing to tell.”

“Of course not,” Cooper said, with a faint smile. Then he let out a breath. “I wanted to inform you about a man I know in the DOJ. We've been friends for years now. He's a very private man. Despite our friendship, there's a lot about him I don't actually know, except that when he's described as powerful, that doesn't only refer to his job. There have been a number of rumors about him the whole time that I've known him, some of which are downright impossible. The stuff of fairy tales.”

Liz kept her breathing even. Could he possibly be talking about what it sounded like he was getting at? Surely it couldn't be.

Her boss watched her for a minute, then went on. “The other thing I know is that he told me that since we're friends, his name is a kind of protection for me. He has specifically mentioned that it could be useful in dealing with people like Raymond Reddington.”

“Why are you telling me this, sir?” Liz repeated, and hoped her voice was steady. It sounded an awful lot like Harold Cooper was telling her he was, at least technically, part of some dragon's organization – some dragon who was a higher-up in the DOJ. The implications of this were dizzying.

“He was also the one who suggested I not bother to pursue the missing evidence from Frank Vandenberg's warehouse. Now, If I'm wrong about what's been going on, you can feel free to ignore this conversation. Dismiss it. That's fine. But if I'm right, I think it's something you should know, and pass on to Reddington.”

Liz swallowed. “I see.” Did he mean this information to be a threat?

“I haven't told my friend in DOJ that it seems like several members of my team may have something of a friendship like his with me, formed just recently. I don't think it's his business. I may, however, if it looks like this will create conflicts of interest, or divisions in the team.”

Depending on how much or little this man had told Cooper – and Liz got the feeling that it wasn't much – she wondered if her boss realized that telling the man even vague suspicions that he might have could lead to a serious conflict or possibly war. Evidently this dragon (if he was one) wasn't too worried about one of his people working inside another dragon's territory. That would almost certainly change if he thought she or Red wanted to poach him away, though. On the other hand, if she hadn't known Harold Cooper the way she did, she would have been worried that he had been spying on Red or her, which brought its own problems with it. “Have you seen any signs of conflicts of interest, sir?”

“Nothing worth mentioning,” said Cooper.

She cleared her throat. “Is there anything else?”

“Unless you want to fill in any details where I only have guesses,” said Cooper. When she stayed silent, he frowned. “I'm not going to order you to say anything, especially since I'm sure you'll continue to deny that you have anything to talk about. But I'm sorry if you feel you can't trust me.”

“I do trust you, sir,” she said quietly. His aims had always been to use the Task Force to do the most good. She believed that. Even if she wouldn't be informing him of something he was totally unaware of, though, she couldn't say more. Not without the chance to talk to Red first, not to mention probably Ressler and Samar.

After another silence, he nodded again, looking resigned. “That's all, Agent Keen.”

She headed back to her desk, trying to organize her thoughts. When she replayed the scene in her mind, she wasn't sure how many details Cooper actually could know based on what he had said. She knew she had been right to keep quiet for the time being. Outside the office, she took out her phone and called Dembe, to ask him to let Red know that they needed to talk and that it concerned Ressler and Samar, too. She was tempted to tell her friends about the conversation, as well. But she decided to hold back for the moment. If all three of them knew that Cooper knew something, they might all manage to act even more suspiciously. No, it would be better to wait.

Ressler eyed her from across the desk when she came back. “What's up?”

“I'm not sure,” she told him. “It was kind of a weird conversation, honestly. I'll let you know when I feel like I've got a better handle on it.”

“You think it could be a problem, though.” It wasn't a question.

“Maybe. I don't want to get everyone worried over nothing,” she said.

He didn't insist on details, although she knew he was still curious. As the work day drew to a close, Red must have gotten close to the Post Office, because he was able to tell her directly that Dembe would be by in a few minutes to pick her up. She acknowledged this. “Ressler, I'm going to have dinner with Red tonight,” she told him, standing up to get her things ready. “So I'll let you know if there's anything I need, but I'm guessing if anything comes up I can just talk to you at home.”

Red's car was, in fact, waiting outside when she left. “Good evening, Lizzie,” said Red, as she sat down in the seat next to him. “How was work?”

“Work itself? Nothing interesting. But Cooper called me into his office a little while ago, and I don't even know what to do with what he said.” She sighed. “Remember how we've been talking about how this, the Task Force, might not last all that much longer?”

“What did Harold say?”

“He all but came out and told me that he – he works for some dragon who's a higher-up at the DOJ. I mean, that he's in his organization, although that's not how he put it. And Cooper also has suspicions about some or all of this team being in a similar arrangement. I assume he meant with you. Maybe he knows about me, too, but I thought not.”

Red cocked his head and was silent for a minute. “Well, that is unexpected. You'd better tell me exactly what he said, Lizzie.”

She recounted the conversation in as much detail as she could. “I didn't really say anything. I stonewalled him, although he obviously didn't buy it.” Her father didn't respond immediately, so she asked, “Do you know of a dragon who works for the DOJ?” That seemed like an unusual career choice for a dragon, based on her experience.

“I do have a good idea of who Harold might have been referring to,” he finally said. “I'm glad you told me about this before answering his questions. Did you tell Agents Ressler and Navabi?”

“Not yet,” she said. “They both know I had a meeting with Cooper, and I told Ressler it was an odd conversation.” Red was definitely agitated, though as usual he wasn't showing much outwardly. “What does this mean for us?”

“I can't say for certain until I make some calls,” he said. “If you'll excuse me, I'm going to make the first of those before we get to the restaurant.” Dembe handed his phone back to Red, who dialed and left a message for whoever the intended recipient was before handing it back.

“Okay, I get that this isn't something we can figure out immediately, but can you give me an idea of what might happen?” She could still sense his disquiet, and it was starting to rub off on her.

“It could mean war,” he said. “Or it could mean very little change to our current holding pattern.”

Liz wished she had been wrong about the potential seriousness of the situation. It hadn't been that long since Red had been at war with Berlin, and that had been bad enough. But now she was a full-fledged member of dragon society, an ally of Red. She could expect to be far more personally involved in any war than she had been. And Ressler and Samar would have to be, too, not to mention Whitney and everyone else she'd hired. Somehow, she hadn't allowed herself to think about this danger that would be even worse for them because of being in her organization. Suddenly she could feel Meera's blood on her hands as clearly as if it had just happened.

“Lizzie,” Red was saying gently, “there's no need to borrow trouble. War is the worst case scenario. We can prepare without anyone having to panic.”

She shook herself mentally and took a deep breath. She had been starting to wonder if it was insane to imagine disappearing, herself, and leaving Ressler and Samar out of it. Of course, that probably wouldn't actually make them safer. She owed them more than that, even if she didn't think Cooper would sit back and let something awful happen to them, either. “Then tell me how to do that.”

“You can and should inform your lieutenants to be on alert. Tell them you know of a potential unspecified threat, but keep the details minimal until we know more.” Red paused, then smiled one of his easy smiles. “In the meantime, I will continue to make the necessary inquiries.” She opened her mouth to speak and he anticipated her. “And you'll be notified of anything solid.”

“Should I have Samar move into my territory? And Whitney?”

“It's up to you if you want to ask them now,” said Red. “If Harold's dragon friend does intend for there to be war, that will likely end up being best for them and for you.”

As Ressler had said before, Whitney probably wouldn't mind. Samar might take more convincing, which would be difficult without giving her any details. Since Liz trusted that Samar was generally able to take care of herself, too, she decided she might wait to tell her.

Red mostly succeeded in encouraging her not to worry about it for the rest of the evening. Of course he had a story or two to tell her during dinner, and Liz allowed herself to be distracted. In turn, she told him a story from before she had known him about the first time she'd fired a gun. It had been her senior year, for a friend's birthday trip to a gun range. “There was a boy at the party, Peter McGillis? I had it all planned out. I was going to impress him with my skills. Problem is, the only 'skills' I had were from pretending to be Agent Scully from _The X-Files_.”

Red chuckled. “And how did you do?”

“My very first shot had me on the ground,” Liz said, laughing and shaking her head. “And Peter spent the whole time with his hands on Lindsay Sorrano, so he could 'help' her with her stance. He never looked at me. My pride hurt a lot worse than my ass afterward, I have to say.”

She was almost relaxed by the time she was dropped off back at the apartment. Of course, even walking up the steps into the building, it came back to her that she needed to tell Ressler and Samar about the potential threat. Still, having spent the time purposefully not worrying about it had helped. When she knocked on Ressler's door, she was able to be calm, for the most part.

“Hey. How was dinner?”

“It was fine,” she said. “I do have something to tell you, though.”

“Sure.” He ushered her inside and closed the door. “What is it?”

“Red told me his people have heard rumors about a new threat to him and to me. Unfortunately, we don't have very many details right now. And it may be just rumors.”

Ressler frowned. “Okay. You really don't know anything more than that, though?”

“That's pretty much it,” Liz said, skirting the truth. “Just that it would probably involve another dragon. I was going to call Samar to let her know, too.”

He nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“Just be alert,” she said. “Look for anything or anyone out of the ordinary. Obviously I'll be doing that, too.”

“Okay. And you'll let me know if you find out anything more?”

“Of course,” she said. Again, technically, this was true – once she and Red had more facts about what this friend of Cooper's was up to, she would tell Ressler.

“All right. I'll let you go call Samar.”

Both notifications taken care of, Liz started to get ready for bed. Her anxieties about what a war would mean started to come back – which was not restful, of course. She used some of her nervous energy to find and make note of apartments that were available in her territory, in order to have suggestions to pass on to Whitney.

When she finally did go to bed, she spent the first half of the night tossing and turning. She eventually passed out, only to dream of Ressler and Samar being hunted down by shadowy figures she couldn't make out. Sometimes her point of view was from above, as if she was flying. And sometimes she had the unnerving feeling that she was the one doing the hunting of her friends.

She reached out a groggy hand for the phone on her bedside table, after forcing herself awake from yet another incarnation of that scenario. It was 4:24 in the morning. Sighing, she set down her phone again and fell back against her pillow. At least she could tell that Ressler was still next door, still fine, when she reached out to make sure.

But she needed to make her mind think about something else. So she sat up, switched on the lamp, and got up to find the book on dragon myths around the world that Red had given her a few days ago. All she'd had time for was flipping through it. Now, as she went out to the living room, sat down, and read, she marveled at the variety of characteristics different cultures had attributed to their local versions of the creatures. At least half of them were only faintly recognizable as anything like her own experience. They were all fascinating, though. She wondered if she ought to lend the book to Ressler and Samar after she was done.

About an hour later, when she realized that she'd read the same page at least three times without absorbing anything it said, Liz yawned and set the book down. There wasn't much time left before her alarm was set to go off, but she decided she'd try to at least get some more rest. As soon as the light in her bedroom was off and her head was on the pillow again, she slept. This time, she didn't remember any dreams.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching to Ressler's POV here - and this is also after the events of Liz's kidnapping as described in "Closing In". (There have been no real developments on the Connolly front in the meantime.)

~~  
It was a few days after they had both recovered enough from their ordeal in Wales that they could go back home. Ressler was still on light duty after his concussion, though he was feeling almost completely better. Liz had suffered no lasting effects from her own imprisonment – other than the trauma of dealing with Tom again, of course. He had been dismayed to learn that the bastard had slipped out of Reddington's custody, though not that he had been shot first. When Liz had told him all this, he had promised to himself that the man would never come near Liz again, if he had anything to say about it.

It was dinner time. Liz was out with Reddington somewhere, and she had told him to take it easy for the evening. He was about to order a pizza when his phone rang, with a local number he didn't recognize. He answered. “Donald Ressler.”

“Don, hi.” The voice was familiar, but he couldn't place it. “Uh, this is Deborah Shaw. I work for Brendan Wilson – do you remember--?”

“Yeah, from the party,” Ressler said, standing up with only a little bit of dizziness. He hadn't seen her since then, but she had been friendly, and as far as he knew neither Reddington nor Liz had any problems with Wilson. “Sure. What can I do for you?”

She gave a little, anxious-sounding laugh. “Well, this may be a weird question. Are you with your boss at the moment?”

“No, she's out with-- her father,” said Ressler. “Why? What's going on?”

“It's just that I've been trying to reach either Brendan or his number one, and I can't get either of them,” said Deborah. “Rick – that's Brendan's number one – was supposed to call me a little while ago to report about how their business trip was going, and he never did.”

“Okay.” Ressler walked into his kitchen to get a glass of water. This sounded like it had the potential to be a very complicated call. He hadn't known Deborah wasn't Wilson's highest-ranked lieutenant, but she was obviously still pretty important in his organization. “And there's no one else of your boss's people you can talk to?”

“No one who's particularly useful in this situation,” Deborah said. She cleared her throat. “Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have bothered you. It's not like Brendan and your Elizabeth are even that friendly. It's just--”

“But we're not enemies, as far as I know,” said Ressler. “Right? Let me call her, and at least see what she says – although considering who she's with, that will mean Reddington gets involved, so I guess I'd better ask if you're okay with that first.”

She laughed, sounding more genuine this time. “No, that should be fine, but thanks for asking. And, uh, thanks.”

“No problem. I'll call you back as soon as I can, all right?”

The first time he called Liz, it was Dembe who picked up. “I'm sorry, Ressler,” he said. “She's unavailable at the moment. I can tell her you called once she gets back.”

“Gets back from where?” Ressler asked in surprise. Having anyone but Liz answer her phone felt unsettling.

“Dinner, at a place with very little cell phone reception,” Dembe replied. “But she and Raymond should be finished soon. Should I tell her you called?”

“Yeah.” Ressler sat back down on his couch. “Thanks. Uh, and please tell her it's kind of urgent.” In the meantime, he made himself a sandwich from the few remaining ingredients in his kitchen. He had no idea how long the rest of the evening's activities would take, and he didn't want to try to do all this on an empty stomach.

When Liz called him back about ten minutes later, she sounded worried. “Hey. Sorry I missed your first call. Is everything okay? Dembe said it was urgent.”

“Everything is fine,” he told her. “But Deborah Shaw, one of Brendan Wilson's top lieutenants, just called me asking for help. She can't reach her boss or the other member of his organization that's supposed to be on a business trip with him right now.” He passed along the few other details Deborah had mentioned.

“Hmm.” Liz took a breath. “Brendan Wilson, possibly missing. Is Deborah okay with Red being in on this?”

“I asked her the same question, and she seemed to be,” Ressler said.

“Okay. Then how about we all meet, somewhere public but where we won't be overheard? I need to know more about the situation.”

Ressler stood up again, put his empty plate on the kitchen counter, and went to get his coat. “That's fine with me.”

“Hold on a second.” There was a rustling sound, and then muffled conversation between Liz and, presumably, Reddington. Then Liz came back on and suggested a bar closer to the edge of her territory. “You can go meet her there first. It's going to take at least twenty minutes for Reddington and me to join you, sorry.”

He was curious now just where exactly she and Reddington had been, and why they couldn't start back to the apartment right away. But he'd ask her later. “Sure.”

“Oh, and Ressler, don't forget to take a cab.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, rolling his eyes. He had only taken one dose of painkiller early today, and of necessity it wasn't even very heavy-duty. But still. “See you there.”

When he told Deborah Liz's plan, the woman sounded relieved. She said she'd meet him at the bar in ten minutes. And when Ressler's cab arrived at the address about ten minutes later, Deborah was just arriving in her car. She smiled when she saw him. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He paid the driver and accompanied Deborah into the bar. “You holding up all right?”

She shrugged. “Not too bad, I guess. I mean, it's only been about an hour since I was supposed to get the call from Rick, so I'm hoping I'm not making something out of nothing.”

They sat down at a booth near the back of the place as Ressler said, “You've been doing this longer than I have, so I'd tend to trust your instincts. Has anything like this ever happened before?”

“No,” she acknowledged. “That's-- that's why I'm nervous.”

“Then you're probably not making something out of nothing,” he concluded.

The waitress came by. Ressler, mindful of the instructions from the doctor in Cardiff about alcohol with his pain pills, started out with a glass of water. He needed to be clear-headed. Deborah gave him a weird look, but once the waitress left he explained briefly.

“Whoa. Kaminsky grabbed you and Elizabeth?” Her eyes widened. “And you got away from whoever he sold you to with just a concussion? I'm impressed.”

“Thanks to Reddington and our FBI team,” Ressler said. It didn't leave nearly as sour of a taste in his mouth to be grateful to Reddington as it once would have – though he still wasn't going to be effusive to the man himself, of course. Reddington had also told them that Samar had been the driving force behind finding the ship where he and Liz had been held before Tom had gotten to them.

Deborah opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but then stopped and shook her head. “I can't say I envy you how exciting your first couple of years on the job have been, if that and the rumors are true.”

“As far as excitement levels,” Ressler said wryly, “it's not too different from when it was just us working at the FBI, believe it or not.” He, Liz, and of course Reddington had had more than a few kidnappings and run-ins with people who wanted to kill them in the first two years of the task force.

“I'm not sure I do – believe it, that is,” said Deborah, but she was smiling.

At that moment, Liz and Reddington, followed quickly by Dembe, entered the building and saw the two of them. Ressler stood up, as did Deborah after a second. Deborah shook the others' hands as they greeted each other, and then they all sat down. Ressler noticed that Liz had changed her outfit from the one she had worn to work. That wasn't unusual, but her hair was also damp.

“Well,” said Reddington, “now that we've all been reintroduced to each other, Deborah, can you tell us where Brendan and his people were meeting today, and why you think they might have gone missing?” At her hesitation, he added, “I promise, I'm not asking you out of a desire to learn the secrets of Brendan's organization. Lizzie and I will expect some kind of repayment, naturally, if we help you locate your boss, but we also do want to help. Brendan and I have a long history of mutual respect.”

Deborah nodded. “All right. Brendan and Rick flew to Prague early yesterday, but their business was supposed to be concluded by this afternoon.” She looked down at her hands. “And Rick was supposed to have called me an hour ago to tell me they were on their way back.”

“Prague?” repeated Reddington. His jaw tightened. “In the city itself, or on the outskirts?”

“I think it was near the edge of town. What does it matter?” Deborah asked.

“If their meeting was not in the city itself, then I fear Brendan and your friend Rick may be in grave danger,” Reddington said. “There have been rumors of a group – one could call it a cult – currently making their way through Europe in search of any dragon they can track down. The ones they find are never seen again. The last disappearance I heard about was very near Prague. However, they don't seem to strike their targets anywhere but in the countryside. I imagine this is to avoid witnesses as much as possible.”

Liz looked at Reddington in alarm. “Is this another situation like Vandenberg?”

“No,” he said. “Vandenberg, insane and cruel though he was, didn't kill his victims. I believe this group seeks out dragons in order to attempt to take on our abilities – to become dragons themselves.”

“By doing what?” Ressler asked, although he had a sinking feeling he had already guessed.

“In the same way traditional Eastern medicine practitioners, or traditional shamanistic peoples, try to take on the powers of other creatures,” said Red flatly. “By using the bones, blood, skin, claws, teeth, organs, and whatever else and creating so-called medicine from it, as well as amulets.”

Deborah paled, and both she and Ressler swore. That had been, in fact, what he had thought.

“But how does this group know about us, and how would they even know who to target?” Liz said. She, too, looked ill.

The waitress came by again at that point. Conversation ceased for a moment as everyone else ordered their drinks, and Deborah and Ressler received theirs.

Reddington shook his head, as soon as the waitress left, and answered Liz's question. “I don't know how they know about us. But the first thing we need to do is to find out for sure if Brendan has really disappeared, and then if so, we need to try to find him before these people reduce him to his component parts.”

Deborah dropped her face into her hands, and Liz glared at Reddington. He cocked an eyebrow at her but did add, “Deborah, we're going to do our best to be sure that doesn't happen.”

She looked up. “How?” she demanded, her voice raw. “I mean, I can't ask you to go to the Czech Republic and try to track him down. I don't want either of you ending up butchered and made into potions, either.”

Ressler gripped the edge of the table. He was glad Deborah had been the one to bring up this objection. It had occurred to him immediately, as well, but he thought it might have come across as uncaring, in the face of the danger Brendan Wilson might be in, if he had said it.

“As much as I respect Brendan and want to help him, I'm not interested in being butchered, either,” said Reddington. “We'll think of an effective plan that doesn't put those of us with draconic heritage at unnecessary risk. But it will have to be developed quickly, for Brendan's sake.”

“All right, so what's the next move?” Ressler asked.

Over the next while, they discussed the beginnings of a plan. Reddington, naturally, had an idea that could kill two birds with one stone, and would benefit him with both results: there was a guy he knew of in Prague who traded in rare artifacts, and might therefore know about any rumors of materials said to come from mythical creatures. He also happened to trade in stolen weapons, which meant that the FBI would have an interest in tracking him down. “Tomas hasn't really broken into the big leagues yet,” Reddington said, “so I wouldn't normally put him on the Blacklist. But maybe we'll be lucky, and he'll give us some client names who do hold a place on my list.”

Deborah didn't seem the least bit thrown by this glimpse into Reddington's working relationship with the FBI. She just asked to be informed as soon as the FBI team was ready, and said that she and some others from Wilson's organization would expect to be involved.

“Of course,” said Reddington, in response to this stipulation.

“And are you two intending to actually go to the Czech Republic?” Ressler asked Liz.

She gave him a look. “If the task force is going, I'm going. I won't answer for Red.”

“I do have some business I can accomplish in Prague,” said Red with a nod. “I'll arrive separately, of course. But I'll be taking extra precautions, and I strongly advise you to do so as well, Lizzie. And Donald, you'll remain alert to any threats.” He stated this as fact, which was the only reason why Ressler didn't react with indignation.

That was the end of the evening's discussion. Deborah insisted on paying for everyone's tab, since they had agreed to help. She also asked Ressler to stick around for a few minutes. Liz said she'd tell Dembe to wait for him.

They walked outside the bar. “Thank you, Don, for being willing to do this,” Deborah said quietly.

Ressler shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. “Don't worry about it.”

“But I do – especially if Elizabeth or Raymond end up in danger because they agreed to this,” she said.

“Well, I'm not going to lie and say that doesn't worry me, too,” Ressler replied after a moment. “But it was their decision. And to be honest, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be able to convince Liz not to do this now even if I tried. She's pretty stubborn.”

She smiled. “Yeah. You found yourself a good one there.”

Aware that he was likely blushing, Ressler nodded. “We're going to do our best to find Brendan, Deborah,” he told her. “I know it won't be easy, but try to get some rest, okay? I'll call you tomorrow as soon as we have all the travel details arranged.”

They said goodnight, and Ressler went over to get into the car that Dembe had waiting nearby. “Everything all right?” Liz asked him as he shut the door.

“Yeah. I'll call her tomorrow morning once we're ready to go.” Ressler sat back against the seat and glanced at her. “Sorry if I cut your dinner short, by the way.”

“No, we were already wrapping up when you called,” she said. She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear and yawned. “Red and I would have been ready sooner, but we both generally like to shower and change after we go hunting.”

“Hunt-- oh.” Ressler pictured what this would be like, and stopped himself from asking a whole bunch of follow-up questions. It really wasn't any of his business. He might not want to know the details, if he thought about it.

“Anyway, it seemed to work out okay, as far as timing,” Liz continued. Then she looked at him and gave him a quizzical smile. “What?”

Ressler shook his head and looked away. “Nothing.”

“Perhaps, Agent Ressler, you're disturbed by the idea of the sort of hunting that doesn't involved high-powered rifles and hideous orange vests?” came Reddington's amused drawl from in front of them.

He flushed and, for the thousandth time, cursed the man's ability to read a situation. “I'd just never thought about it before, all right?” he mumbled.

“You could come watch sometime,” Reddington said. “I'm sure you'd find it quite interesting.” As usual with things like this, Ressler wasn't entirely sure how much of this was a sincere invitation and how much of this was just pulling his leg.

“I wouldn't want to intrude on your father-daughter time,” Ressler said in response, only slightly sarcastic.

“Thanks, Ressler,” said Liz. Her tone was also dry, but she was looking at Reddington when she spoke. “Very understanding of you.” Then she yawned again. “Sorry. Guess I'm going to have to go right to bed when we get back.”

Ressler looked at her, half-asleep in the seat next to him. He thought about what they were planning to do tomorrow, and he clenched his fists. “I hate to bring up something that might make it hard to sleep,” he said, “but what else do we know about this cult or group or whatever that's taking down dragons? What are we dealing with?”

Liz's eyes opened, and she sat up with a grim expression. Reddington grew serious as well. “I did keep some of the nastier details quiet when we were conversing with Miss Shaw, though of course she'll have to know them eventually,” he said. “The group calls themselves by the rather grandiose name of the Order of the Immortal Wings. My sources tell me the unlucky ones of us who have fallen prey to these people are without exception never found again – because there's nothing left of them that isn't regarded as valuable and usable by the Order.”

Ressler swore again, with feeling, while Liz asked, “Sources? You have people _inside_ this group?”

“No. They're much too secretive of a bunch for that,” he replied. “But I do know a man in Greece and a woman in Croatia with family members who have left their homes, seduced by the promise of joining an elite few who have access to all the powers and gifts they believe dragons possess.”

“But I still don't understand how this Order would be able to find dragons, much less prove to everyone in the group that whoever they find isn't just a regular human,” Liz said. Then her eyes widened. “Unless … they have someone like Whitney with them. Someone who can identify us.”

“That would be a logical explanation for your first question,” Reddington said with a nod. “As to your second question, that remains to be seen. I've done my best to see to it that no more of Gordon Ambrose's transformative drug exists anywhere that our enemies could ever access it, so that explanation is, I can state with some confidence, unlikely.”

Ressler breathed out slowly. He didn't like the implication that Reddington had this drug that forced dragons to transform available for his own use, but it was definitely a good thing that it would not be turning up as an unpleasant surprise for Liz or him again.

The car arrived at their apartment building. Reddington told them he would call before he left on his own trip to the Czech Republic, and at Liz's worried look he reiterated his promise to stay safe. She said goodnight to him and Dembe, and Ressler nodded to them both.

“So I'll talk to Cooper tomorrow first thing, and bring him Red's tip about the arms trader,” Liz said as they walked up the steps to the building. “And I should probably call Samar, too. Let her know what we'll really be doing in Prague.”

He was already making a mental list of everything he'd be bringing on this trip. But adding Samar to the group who knew what was happening was definitely a good idea. “All right,” he said. They were inside by now. “Good night.”

“Good night, Ressler,” she said with a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Great. Back to normal,” he told her, with an answering smile. She was glad to hear it. As he went into his apartment and shut the door, he sighed. It had barely been a week since Wales. Now they were about to set off on a case that had the potential to do worse than put them in the hospital. But on the other hand, he reflected grimly, there was no way in hell he or Liz were just going to sit around while this group of psychos were out there hunting down dragons as they found them. Reddington might have been content to let this information sit until it affected him directly enough to prod him into action, but that wasn't Liz's style. And besides, who knew how long it would take this Order to decide to cross the ocean?

~


	3. Chapter 3

~

Ressler was woken up from some very disturbing dreams the next morning by his alarm. It took him a few minutes to shake off the effects of the dreams, but thankfully they faded from memory quickly enough. He was ready and knocking on Liz's door on schedule.

“Hey,” she said, standing aside to let him in. “I called Cooper. He's interested to hear more about the case.”

“Good,” said Ressler. “You ready to go?”

“Pretty much. I just have to grab my keys.”

The team had assembled by the time Liz and Ressler arrived and got things set up. Liz passed along more details about the Czech guy Reddington had offered up, Tomas Cermak. Cooper and even Aram noted with suspicion how small-time he seemed. But Liz had an answer ready for that. “I know,” she said. “Not exactly his usual Blacklist candidate, is it? But Reddington tells me he might be the key to bigger fish – and we do have enough on him to make him worth the FBI's time. Right, sir?”

Cooper's look of suspicion hadn't changed, but he nodded. “I've already started coordinating with the State Department and the Czechs,” he said. “We should have approval soon. In the meantime, let's make sure that everyone is very clear on what the team be doing when we get there. I don't want any mistakes or international incidents.”

Once the rest of the task force was dismissed to prepare, Cooper called Ressler and Liz over. At first Ressler was nervous that he was going to renew his inquiries about their off-the-books activities, but instead he looked at each of them closely and said, “Are you two sure you're ready for this kind of a mission so soon after your recovery? Because I don't want you to put yourselves or the mission at risk if you're not, and Reddington's intel doesn't seem particularly time-sensitive in this case.”

“I've got a clean bill of health, and no lingering symptoms,” Ressler said. “I won't weigh the team down.” Liz made a similar statement on her own behalf.

“Glad to hear it,” said Cooper. “Then I'll expect you to return safely, promptly, with Cermak in custody, and preferably with good information on his buyers, as well.”

“Yes, sir.”

Samar came over to join them after Cooper departed. “So, just to be clear,” she said in a low voice, “what we're really doing is trying to find a friend of yours who's been kidnapped by some dragon-worshipping cultists?”

“They don't _worship_ dragons,” Ressler said with a startled frown. “They kill them and--”

“And try to take on their abilities, yes, I got that,” Samar said. She shot a glance at Liz. “But plenty of cultures have great reverence for the creatures they kill, and sacrificing them is part of their worship rituals.”

Liz nodded, her eyes shadowed. “Whether or not that's the case here, it's true that the main goal of this trip is to try to find Brendan Wilson,” she said. “To that end, we'll be working with several members of his organization, as well.”

“I think a crash course in some more of the finer points of – what was it you called it? Dragon society? - might be a little overdue at this point,” Samar said, “but I'll still ask you for it on the way.”

“All right,” said Liz. “I can do that.”

During the flight, Liz, Samar, and Ressler were seated on the plane in such a way that they had some privacy. So Liz did in fact answer a number of questions that Samar still had. She also expanded on a few topics Samar hadn't asked about. Ressler mostly stayed quiet.

“So we don't know how these people track down dragons?” Samar asked, after her more general questions had been answered.

“Not for sure,” Liz told her. “But we do have a guess.” She passed along the information about the existence of human telepaths, and briefly mentioned Whitney. “Our theory is the Order might have someone with that ability at their disposal.”

“Fascinating,” Samar said quietly. “Humans with telepathic abilities. It makes me wonder if in the past, there was some distinct group of us who spent their whole lives alongside dragons, generation after generation, and somehow developed this ability as an evolutionary adaptation.”

Ressler traded looks with Liz. It was an interesting idea, and one that neither of them had thought of. If Whitney's family in China really had worked for one dragon for several generations, that was some support for the theory.

Almost as soon as the plane landed in Prague, Liz got a call from Reddington. He told her he would meet them at their hotel, along with Deborah Shaw and those she had brought with her, for a quick update on what he had been able to find out about Wilson since they had last spoken. It would have to be very quick since their FBI operation was scheduled to start as soon as they had rendezvoused with the local police and confirmed Cermak's location.

The three of them spoke briefly with an officer of the Czech Police when they arrived at the hotel. The man was direct, and refreshingly not unhappy about their presence. He said he would come back for them in half an hour.

Red and Dembe met them in the lobby, along with Deborah and four other members of Wilson's organization. Samar was introduced to Deborah, and Deborah introduced everyone to the four men she'd brought. They regarded Reddington and Dembe with wariness, but seemed pleased enough to meet everyone else. “So what's the plan?” Deborah asked, once introductions were complete. Her eyes had shadows underneath them, Ressler saw, but otherwise she looked put together and ready for action.

“Those of us who work with the FBI have to leave in about half an hour to take down the arms trader who's our excuse for being here,” Liz said. “And we'll see what he might know about Brendan.”

Reddington nodded and said, “Meanwhile, I've been making inquiries into Brendan's last known whereabouts. He was seen leaving the city traveling in a northeasterly direction, the night you first wondered if he'd gone missing, Deborah.” He looked at her gravely. “Unfortunately, there have been no sightings of him since then. However, I do have a rumored sighting of your associate, Rick Clement. If it was him, he was being escorted by several figures, possibly Order members, from one abandoned building to another.”

At the mention of Rick's name, Ressler saw Deborah's hands tighten into fists at her sides. He felt a pang of-- it was something like sympathy. She and this Rick guy, they were a couple. He was sure of it. And she was clearly hoping very hard that he was still alive – at least as much as she was hoping her boss was still alive. She met Reddington's gaze squarely. “Where was this sighting?”

It was settled that Liz and the rest of the FBI team would join Deborah at the site where Brendan's lieutenant might have been seen, as soon as Tomas Cermak was in custody. The reasoning given would be that Cermak had intel of other possible targets active in that area. Reddington and his people (there were others in the lobby around them besides Dembe, Ressler was sure) would follow Deborah there right now.

Liz shared a look with Reddington after this conversation. Ressler didn't hear anything, but he could guess what they were saying to each other. He couldn't help being relieved that he, Liz, and Samar weren't going to be joining in on this phase of the job.

“All right. Stay in contact if you can, be careful, and we'll let you know as soon as we're done with Cermak,” Liz said to Deborah.

Deborah agreed, and their group set off, followed by Reddington's group.

The takedown of Tomas Cermak went about as close to perfectly as any op Ressler had ever been part of. As had been agreed beforehand, the FBI team let the Czechs take the lead. They captured Cermak without incident, unless you counted having to shoot one of his henchmen, which Ressler didn't. Then they turned him over to the FBI, who had been given first priority in interrogating him.

Cermak was short, dark-haired, and nervous: that was Ressler's first impression as he and Liz entered the room the police had offered them to use for interrogation. He blinked at them both and said, in accented but fluent English, “Please, I will tell you anything you want to know, if you promise you get me a good deal.”

“Well, that's what we like to hear, Mr. Cermak,” Ressler said, smiling as he and Liz sat down across from him. “If you give us useful intel on your buyers, and maybe a few other topics, we'll be happy to get you the best deal we can.”

“Okay. Good.” Cermak smiled, too, but then furrowed his brow. “Wait. Other topics? I don't-- What other things could I tell you?”

Samar was watching from outside the room, making sure that there would be no record of this part of the interview. Liz leaned forward. “Mr. Cermak, we'll get your statement about all the people who have ever bought or traded weapons from you,” she said, “but first, we need to know if you've heard anything about any unusual artifacts moving through the city, or on the outskirts of the city.”

The man's eyes widened. “Art—artifacts? I don't, I don't think I know--”

“We know about your other interests,” Liz cut him off, staring into his eyes. “You've been earning a reputation as the man to talk to if anyone has something rare to trade. So,” and then her voice changed, and Ressler tried to quash his usual instinctive shiver, “tell us about any rumors you've heard about very rare objects, or amulets, or medicines, being moved anywhere nearby.”

Cermak no longer looked nervous. Now his face was blank and his eyes were dull as he replied, “It's only been in the last few days. I hear rumors of a bunch of people – strange people – who find powerful objects that are so rare that I don't believe they exist.”

“What kind of objects?” Liz asked. Her voice still had that unsettling, resonant quality that meant she was hypnotizing the guy.

“I never see any of them,” Cermak said. “These strange people are not interested in trading. They want to keep all of it to themselves. But I send a man to speak with them, to tell them I control trade in this part of the country and I don't like it when I can't share with people who have something to share.” His voice took on a trace of arrogance as he related this.

“You sent someone? When was this?”

“Two days ago. I send Adam with three others, and plenty of weapons,” he said. “We meet at a place they tell us, twenty-five kilometers to the east from the city center. But when my men get there, they see only one man.” He shook his head. “Very strange man, so Adam tells me. Wearing a-- robe, I think is the word? With what Adam thinks is dried blood painted on the front of it.”

Liz tensed, but kept going. “All right. What did this strange man say to Adam?”

“He tells Adam that they will not bring their--” Cermak paused for a moment. “Their items of power through the city, and in exchange we will not bother them.”

“And he didn't tell Adam any details about these items?”

“Adam wants to know, but the man only says that the items belong to his group now, and to anyone who proves worthy of joining. Even when Adam uses his gun to threaten the man, he only smiles and doesn't look afraid at all. Says he is not afraid of dying.”

Liz glanced at Ressler, and then back at Cermak. “Is there anything else you can tell me from that meeting?”

“No,” said Cermak. “The meeting is over not long after that. We agree not to bother this strange group, and they agree not to bother us.”

“Okay. That's good.” Liz was about to break eye contact again, but then she stopped. “Is that all you know about these mysterious, powerful items? Have you heard any specific rumors about them?”

At this, Cermak was more reluctant to answer, but when Liz demanded that he tell her, he winced and said, “Yes, I hear other rumors. A friend of a friend says these people hunt down creatures like the _drak_ , but these ones sometimes look human. Dragons, you would call them. They are wise, they do not die, and they have great power.”

“What were you going to do in response to these rumors?” Liz's voice was cold.

Cermak winced again, but replied, “I want to recruit more men and try to find these people. If there is truth to the rumors, the items they have must be very valuable.”

Ressler could almost feel his partner's fury and disgust. She was staring at Cermak like there was nothing she would like better than to crush him. He was disgusted, too, but he leaned over all the same so he could speak into her ear. “Liz, we have what we need. Let's see what he knows about the weapons trading.”

A few seconds passed, but then Liz leaned back just a little. “All right, Mr. Cermak,” she said, still in the same powerful voice. “You're not going to pursue any thoughts of tracking down the items these people might have. You're not going to tell anyone else about those rumors you've heard. When Agent Ressler asks you about any clues you might have as to where they're operating, you'll tell him, and that's it. And you aren't going to remember this conversation we just had, either. Got it?”

“Yes.”

With that, Liz stood up and pushed away from the table. “I'm going to go find some water,” she said in her normal voice, and stalked out of the room without a backward glance.

Ressler glanced over his shoulder, where Samar was presumably watching through the one-way mirror. Apparently he was going to be finishing this interrogation. He slid over into Liz's vacated seat and met Cermak's eyes. The man still looked confused, but when Ressler said, “Okay, Mr. Cermak. Why don't you tell me what you know about the location of the people my partner was just asking you about?” he blinked and responded with a few details, as ordered. Then they moved on to details about his weapons trade network, and from there the interview proceeded more normally.

When Ressler had gotten as much out of him as he thought was going to happen, he told Cermak they were going to take a break. “But you've been very cooperative, and we'll be sure to let our bosses know that, all right?”

Cermak nodded. He was back to looking nervous. “Can I get some water and an aspirin?” he asked.

“I'll see what I can do,” Ressler said, and left.

Outside the room, Samar and Liz were talking with the same Czech police officer who had met them at the hotel earlier today. Liz looked up at Ressler's arrival, but before she could say anything her phone rang. She stepped away to answer it.

“Agent Ressler,” said the officer, whose name Ressler thought was Jan, “has the prisoner given you useful information?”

“Yeah, he's been cooperative,” Ressler said. “We appreciate all your help. He's all yours, if you're ready for him. He asked for some water and something for a headache.”

“All right,” Jan said. “Let one of the officers here know if you need anything else.” He nodded to Ressler and to Samar, and then left.

Samar took a breath and said in a low voice, gesturing to where Liz was on the phone, “That was quite the interview Agent Keen led, before you took over.”

“It was,” he agreed. That had been Samar's first time watching anyone else be hypnotized, he realized. “I think we got what we needed, though.”

“Yes, I think we did,” she said. “And it looked to me like we also might have had our suspect end up severely damaged if you hadn't stepped in – or did I misread the situation?”

Ressler restrained himself from glaring at her. “We kept the situation under control,” he said. The fact that he had worried about that same risk didn't mean he liked hearing it spoken aloud.

Samar nodded, not convinced. She was about to say something further when Liz rejoined their group. “It's Red,” she informed them, holding the phone away from her. “They searched the building where he heard Rick Clement had been seen, and found some evidence to suggest he was in fact there.”

Ressler passed on the location details Cermak had for where the Order might be based. “Where do we go first? Did they find out anything about Wilson?”

“I'll ask,” she said.

After a few more minutes of discussion, they decided they would all go to the location Cermak had given hints about. Reddington's local contacts were able to narrow it down to the most likely location for a cult to be: an old school near the northeastern edge of the city.

The trip didn't take too long once they'd determined their destination. They got out of the car in front of the old school. Deborah and the other members of Wilson's organization were waiting out front – in Deborah's case, obviously impatiently. “There's been no sign of either Brendan or Rick since we got here,” she announced, as they walked toward her. “No sign of anyone else, either.”

“Well, there are definitely people inside,” said Liz. She looked toward the unimpressive building, with its cracked paint and shattered windows. “I can't tell if any of them are Brendan or Rick, though, since I don't know them and it's not a small space.”

“Can you tell where in the building the people are located?” Samar asked.

Liz cocked her head. “It feels like they might be underground. It's not as easy to narrow it down as I'd expect, but I'm pretty sure about that much.”

“So what are we waiting for then?” said Deborah. “I'm going in.”

“We'll follow as soon as Reddington and his men get here,” Ressler said. There was no way he was letting Liz go into a crumbling building full of people whose only goal in life seemed to be killing dragons, with just the manpower they had right now.

“And there they are now,” said Samar, before Deborah could do more than huff in frustration. An SUV was pulling up as they spoke.

Within minutes, they had organized a plan of attack: Deborah and her group would go in first, at the main entrance, and try to find a downstairs access as soon as possible. They were least at risk, since there was no dragon in their party. As soon as they saw anything, any sign that indicated a more precise location for the Order, they would report this to the rest. Reddington had concurred with Liz's assessment that there was something about this location that made it more difficult than usual to use draconic telepathic talents to find out where their quarry was.

“I don't like this,” said Ressler quietly, as he, Samar, and Liz waited at one of the side entrances. Reddington, Dembe, and four other guys that Reddington hadn't bothered to introduce were waiting on the other side of the school. “It feels a little too much like a coincidence that there's something weird about this place, that makes your telepathy not work as well.”

“I know what you mean,” Liz said, “but we can hardly just turn around and leave now that we've come this far. We need to find out if Brendan and his lieutenant are alive – and we need to stop these Order murderers from taking anyone else.”

“So you don't think Wilson is alive, then,” said Samar.

Liz shook her head. “No, I don't. They've killed others, if what Reddington has heard is true. But there might be hope for Rick. We haven't heard anything about this cult killing humans.”

Just then, the two-way radio at her belt crackled, and Liz picked it up. “Deborah?”

“Yeah, we're hearing something,” she said, her voice low and tense. “It-- it sounds like it could be a chant. And you were right, it's coming from downstairs.” She gave a quick run-through of what her team had discovered about the layout of the school. It didn't seem to them like it was an extensive subterranean floor – maybe an auditorium or basement with a few adjoining rooms. They had already gone down one stairwell to the lower floor.

“Let's move in,” came Reddington's voice.

Ressler and Samar entered first, guns drawn, moving down the dark, cool hallway as silently as possible. There was no one present, but they could hear the chanting that Deborah had described, not too far away. Ressler couldn't make out the words, but the repetition and the fervency of the words came through – and chilled him.

Once they reached a door that led downstairs, Liz came in after them. When she heard the chant, she stopped for a moment and whispered, “Okay, that's creepy. I guess you weren't too far off with that worshipping idea, Samar.”

The other woman nodded, but didn't speak in response. They started to move down the stairs, and the sound of the chant got louder. It was still impossible to distinguish the words. There was a faint light from the hallway, though, that could be seen through the small windows in the door.

Just as Samar was about to pull open the door at the bottom of the stairs, she stopped and flattened herself against the wall. Ressler and Liz did likewise. The sound of the chanting got louder for a second, then faded again, and then someone walked past the door and kept going.

Samar began to reach for the door handle again. Then they were all halted by Reddington's voice in their heads. _We found traces of blood at the other end of the building_ , he announced, his voice flat. _It's Brendan's. Stay on guard._

“Damn,” Liz muttered.

Ressler was distracted for a second by the question of how Reddington would be able to be sure the blood belonged to Wilson. He pushed that aside for later.

After another few seconds, Samar opened the door, all but silently. She held it so that Ressler could enter the hallway first. It was clear, so Liz followed, and then Samar closed the door after herself.

The sound of the voices in near-unison was coming from their left. There was another set of double doors some five yards in that direction. Ressler thought it might be upwards of two dozen people, based on the voices, though of course he couldn't be sure. If even half of them were armed, these were not odds he liked at all.

Just as Ressler was about to signal to Samar and Liz to head toward the doors, there was a soft sound from the opposite direction. They all whirled around. It was a kid, a teenage boy wearing a light-colored robe that was ridiculously big on him. He was staring at them all, mouth open. There was a rough circle painted on the front of the robe, in what looked ominously like dried blood.

“Where did you come from?” the boy asked. His English was almost without accent, though the pace of his words was oddly slow. Not seeming to notice the guns that all three of them were holding, he got closer. Then as he looked at Liz again, his eyes widened. “You. You're another Immortal One! And you're even more beautiful than the one who found us earlier this week.” He smiled, and the beatific expression on his young face was a chilling counterpoint to his next statement. “The others will be so pleased to know you've come to give us your blood and your essence, so we can be more like you.”

“Don't come any closer, kid,” Ressler said, stepping as close to in front of Liz as he could without standing in her line of fire. He raised his gun to aim at the boy's head. “No one's going to be giving anyone their blood.”

The kid turned his gaze on Ressler. His pupils looked dilated, even in the low light of the single fluorescent ceiling light. “But why would you want to stop this?” he asked, looking honestly confused. “You can partake as well.”

_He's definitely a telepath_ , came Liz's voice. She sounded shaken. Out loud, she said, “We're looking for a man named Rick Clement. He would have been with Brendan Wilson, the-- other dragon.”

The kid blinked slowly. He had to be on something, Ressler thought. Maybe everyone in this screwed-up group was high most of the time. It might explain some things. “Yes. There was a man with the male one of your kind,” he said, again drawing out his words.

“Is this man still alive?” Samar asked. She, too, had her weapon trained on the boy.

He turned toward her. “Of course,” he replied. “We honor him, as we will honor you for serving the Immortals.”

“Right,” said Samar. “Where is he?”

“In there,” the boy said, gesturing toward the double doors. He smiled again. “I should tell my friends that you all are here. They'll be so--”

“No!” Liz's voice was sharp, but she lowered it and said, “Please don't do that.”

He gaped at her again. “But they need to know.”

Ressler made a quick decision, lowered his weapon, and stepped closer to the kid. “Sorry about this,” he said. Then he raised the gun again and hit the kid in the head. The blow was just hard enough to knock him out. Ressler caught him before he crumpled to the floor, laying him down with more care than he felt was actually deserved. His pulse was strong, though slower than Ressler expected. Maybe it was whatever drug he was on.

“Well, that's one way to solve that problem for now,” Samar said. She helped pick up the boy and carry him out of the hall to the base of the stairs down which they had just come, and pulled a zip tie out of her pocket to tie his hands behind his back. When Ressler stared at the zip tie, she shrugged. “It pays to be prepared.”

Liz had watched all of this without speaking, one hand over her mouth. Now, when they rejoined her in the hall, she lowered her hand and said, “I don't think he managed to tell anyone about us before you knocked him out. No one is coming, so that's a good sign.” Then she shook her head and laughed without humor. “Not that anything about this is actually good.”

“No, it isn't,” Samar agreed, “but as you said, we've come this far, so we might as well keep going. And at least we've learned some things from this encounter.”

“Yeah, like the fact that these people are even crazier than we thought – and that there's a good chance they're all high,” said Ressler. Liz gave him a look, and he tried not to sound defensive as he said, “What? You didn't notice the kid's eyes, and the way he was talking? There's no way he wasn't on something.”

Liz nodded slowly. “I noticed. Cults do often use drugs to keep their followers compliant,” she said, “and of course there's a long history of drug use in worship practices.”

Samar said, “I almost hope they are all on something, if there are as many of them as it sounds like there might be. Because I'm not sure we outnumber them.”

Liz said she would pass on what they'd learned to the others, while they moved toward the double doors cautiously. The chanting had continued this whole time, almost without pause.

They gathered at the door so that all of them could look in. From what Ressler could see, the large room looked to have about twenty-five people, most of whom were seated on the floor facing the stage. They were all in identical robes, like the one the telepath kid was wearing. There was one man on the stage, with his hands raised and his eyes closed, facing so that his right side was to the audience. The audience members repeated whatever he chanted (was it English? Ressler didn't think it was). Then Ressler heard Liz gasp and swear, and his gaze went to where she and everyone in the room was looking.

The back wall of the stage had a large white cloth banner hung on it. There was a circle painted in the center, with much more care than the circle on the teenager's robe. Above the circle was a symbol obviously meant to evoke dragon wings, spread to their full span. The material used to paint these symbols was, again, pretty clearly blood. Just in front of the banner was a big wooden table. It wasn't quite possible to see what was on it from their vantage point, but the object was white and very large. A bone, Ressler realized with cold disgust. Very probably all that was left of Brendan Wilson.

_I'm not going to hold back much longer_ , said Liz, furious.

“Contact the others,” whispered Ressler. “We should go in together.”

Liz nodded. A second later, she said, _Five seconds._

Samar pulled open the door, again as quietly as possible. At the other two entrances to the auditorium, the doors were being opened at the same time. When Liz yelled, “Now!”, all three teams poured into the room. The chanting stopped in a disorganized muddle of shocked screams and cries as Ressler and the others yelled for everyone to put their hands up and get on their feet. Deborah, he saw, had gone right for the man onstage and slapped cuffs onto him. She was yelling into his face, gesturing at the banner and the bone on the table, but there was so much chaos in the room that Ressler couldn't make out the words.

Meanwhile, most of the rest of the Order members were scared and confused. They didn't provide much resistance, though based on a few reactions to Liz and Reddington, there was more than one other telepath in the bunch. Ressler ordered the nearest group of men and women to back up against the wall. They did so, staring at his gun in wide-eyed alarm. The telepath in the bunch of people Liz was ordering to do the same thing was less willing to comply. “You!” the woman yelled. “You cannot do this to us! This is a perversion!” Her voice carried over the sounds of almost all the others quieting down.

“You call this a perversion?” Liz scoffed, pointing her weapon at the woman. “How about the way you murdered a man and cut him up so you could use his body parts for yourselves?!”

“It is not murder!” she said, looking scandalized. “It is sacrifice!” She reached under the folds of her robe. “Let me show you, Immortal One. I have--”

“Keep your hands where we can see them!” Ressler demanded. The robes were bulky enough that there was no way of knowing what weapon she might have underneath. Samar looked up from where she had been zip-tying another cult member's wrists, and put her own hand to her gun.

The woman stopped. “I promise I am not armed,” she said. “I just want to show you the gift that we give to those dragons we are fortunate enough to meet.”

“Slowly,” Liz said.

Behind them, Deborah was still speaking in a low, furious voice to the guy onstage, and Reddington was overseeing the corralling of another group of cult members. He was also aware of what was happening with this woman, though, Ressler noted, since he kept casting glances over his shoulder at this corner of the room.

Very slowly, the woman telepath took out a small glass bottle that was full of some kind of liquid. She held it out in front of her, and smiled broadly at Liz. “In exchange for this gift of peace that we offer, we only ask that you consider the gift that you would be for us. Of course it is a sacrifice on your part, but you would live on in the lives of those to whom you give your immortality and power.”

“What the hell?” Ressler said, staring. He did not lower his weapon. These people were all nutcases. All of them.

Liz shook her head. “You're crazy. Why the hell would I give up my life in exchange for – that?”

“Take it,” the woman said, holding the bottle up again. “Then you'll know.”

“We will take it,” said Reddington then, from where he had walked up behind the woman. He took it out of her hands as she turned around, startled. He smiled at her. “Though probably not in the way you wanted us to.” A moment later he handed the bottle to Dembe after having bent to look at it more carefully. “Be careful with that,” he told Dembe.

“Where is he? Where is Rick?” Deborah yelled then, still addressing the guy who had been leading the chant. She shook him by the front of his robe. “Did you kill him, too?”

From further back in the auditorium, a quiet, confused-sounding voice said, “Debbie?”

Deborah looked up. Ressler followed her gaze. One of the prisoners stood up awkwardly, his hands still bound behind him. Deborah gave a little cry and ran toward him. “Rick!”

“You came,” Rick said, closing his eyes as she embraced him. Then he opened his eyes again and pulled away, staggering slightly. “I-- I couldn't stop them,” he said. “I tried. But he transformed, and then they...” He looked around, only now seeming aware of where he was. His eyes were wide and his pupils were dilated. Then he looked down at the robe he was wearing. “Oh God. Get this off me. Please, get this off me!”

Deborah took out a knife and cut the bindings on his wrists. Then she helped him take off the robe. “It's okay,” she told him quietly. “We'll figure all of this out.”

“No, it's not okay!” Rick cried. He rubbed his hands over his face and let out a strangled sob. “They killed Brendan, and I didn't stop them!”

Ressler looked away as Deborah pulled him into another embrace. There was the last piece of confirmation that Brendan Wilson was dead, as if they needed it. He didn't want to imagine what the murdered dragon's lieutenants were feeling right now.

Reddington took a step closer to Deborah and Rick. “I'm truly sorry for your loss,” he said, “and there will be many of us grieving for Brendan in the next while, but I'm afraid I have to interrupt. We need to get these people out of here, and ourselves as well, before the Czech authorities descend on this place. I imagine neither of you want these cultists to end up in Czech prison rather than face draconic justice.”

The two broke apart and turned to face Reddington. “There's no way in hell I'm letting these killers get off easy,” Rick said, slowly but clearly, swiping a hand under his eyes. He looked at Reddington. “We've met before, haven't we?”

“A few times, I believe,” said Reddington with a nod. “I'm Raymond Reddington. Brendan and I weren't close, but we respected each other.” Then he gestured to where Liz was standing, flanked by Ressler and Samar. “I don't think you've had the opportunity to meet my daughter, Elizabeth Keen.”

Rick nodded to her, then looked at Reddington and said, “All right. I'm sure Deborah has already given her consent to working with you...” his gaze traveled to Liz, “and you. But I'll give mine, too, on behalf of what's left of Brendan's organization.” His voice cracked slightly on the name of his dragon, but he didn't break down this time.

“Thank you,” said Reddington, and Liz echoed him. “Now, I have--”

At that moment, a number of things happened almost at once. Ressler, who was standing closest to the woman telepath who had spoken with Liz before, saw her start to edge away from the rest of them. She was looking toward the stage. Ressler reached out and grabbed her by the arm. “Hey, where are you going, huh?”

While Ressler was still speaking, Samar looked up and shouted, “Gun!”

Ressler didn't have time to follow her gaze to get a better idea of where the threat was located. “Everyone get down!” He shoved the telepath away and dove to push Liz to the ground. A shot was fired from the other side of the room in the general direction of where they were, someone screamed, and then several more shots were fired in quick succession, from close by on both sides. Then there was more screaming, this time from all around them.

~


	4. Chapter 4

~

The shooting stopped. “Is everyone all right?” came Deborah's voice, over the sound of a few cult members whimpering.

Ressler pulled himself off Liz, who met his gaze for a second before sitting up, herself. Samar was crouched on the ground next to both of them. Her gun was still pointed at her target. Ressler looked where she was aiming, and saw a man lying on the ground, blood pooling under him. He was dressed in one of the Order's pale robes, and the man who had led the chanting was kneeling next to him, staring in shock. There was a gun in the dead man's right hand. Dembe and one other man from Red's group were also still holding their guns on the dead man. Reddington and his people all seemed fine.

“Is everyone all right?” Deborah repeated, standing up from where she and Rick had hit the ground when the shooting started.

There were affirmative responses from all the non-cultists. Then there was a long, in-drawn, ragged breath from behind Ressler. When he turned around, the telepath that he had pushed aside looked back at him, eyes wide, with her hand over a bleeding wound in her abdomen. She coughed once and whispered, “But … this is impossible. We were all … supposed to be...” Then she coughed again and shut her eyes in pain, as Ressler hurried to her side, looking for something to staunch the bleeding as he did so.

“Here,” said Samar, kneeling next to him and holding out her scarf. Ressler took it and pressed it into the bullet wound, and the woman moaned in pain.

“What was it you were about to say?” said Reddington then, from where he was standing right behind them. “You're all supposed to be … what?”

The woman opened her eyes, but it took her a few seconds to focus on Reddington's face. She frowned, and took a sharp breath. “The blood … the bones … he told us we would be invulnerable.”

At that, Reddington laughed and shook his head. It was not a nice laugh. “Really? And you didn't think see any problem with that logic, even though we're not invulnerable ourselves? I hope for your sake those drugs you're obviously all partaking of so regularly have dulled your wits, and that you weren't always like this.” Then he turned away and pointed at the dead man on the ground, asking the room at large, “Speaking of stupidity, where did this fellow get his gun, by the way?”

Deborah cleared her throat. “Uh, I don't know where he got it,” she said, not quite able to meet his eyes, “but I do know that it's my fault he wasn't relieved of it. It was mine and my men's job to check the people in that part of the room for weapons, and I guess we didn't do a good enough job. I'm sorry.”

Reddington observed her for a moment. “Well, it's not as if you didn't have other things on your mind,” he said. “All the same, if that bullet had found its intended target – whichever of us it was – this situation could have been very different for you.”

Deborah gulped and nodded. The men she had brought with her also looked appropriately chastened.

“We need to get this woman out of here and to a doctor now if we want to keep her from bleeding out,” said Samar then, standing up and looking at Liz.

“Yes, and I'm sure there'll be police showing up soon enough,” said Liz. She sighed and glanced around the room. “Do we have enough vehicles to transport everyone here?”

“To where?” asked Ressler. He wasn't sure exactly what “draconic justice” would be in this case, but he had a feeling it would be taking place in the US, and he couldn't imagine how that would work.

“Did you talk to the man whose contact information I gave you?” Reddington was looking at Deborah again while he asked this.

The woman nodded. “And each of us brought a van with us, like you suggested.”

“Then we're set for the first part of the journey,” Reddington replied, pleased. “As for the next step, I'll talk to my friend at the nearest airstrip, but I don't anticipate any trouble from him.”

They started to move the cult members out of the building in shifts. The wounded telepath, Ressler and one of Reddington's men carried out between the two of them. It would have been better if they had anything handy to use as a stretcher, but there wasn't anything. Ressler was sure she was in a lot of pain as they carried her. She stayed nearly silent, though. Dembe intercepted them outside the building and directed them to take her to a particular car. Ressler wondered if he should be concerned about entrusting this woman to Reddington's care, after what she had done – but then he thought back to what the man had said to him while they were both in the Box, and decided not to worry.

Once all the cult members were loaded into all the vehicles (except the one for the FBI contingent), the one containing the injured woman departed to be taken to whatever medical care Reddington had arranged. The teenager Ressler had knocked out had already regained consciousness, so it was decided he didn't need to see a doctor before he was transported out of here. Then Liz, Red, Deborah, Rick, Ressler, and Samar conferred for a few minutes outside the school.

“So you have transport arranged to take the prisoners back to the US,” Rick said to Reddington. In the time since the others had arrived, whatever drugs Rick had been given had mostly worn off. It was easy to see now why Brendan had chosen him as his top lieutenant.

“Yes,” Reddington said. “I'll take care of getting them out of the Czech Republic and into the US. Deborah has a number to reach me; you can inform me when you and your people have arrived, and then let me know where you want the cult members delivered.”

Ressler met Samar's uneasy gaze. “Are we allowed to know what you're going to do with them once they arrive?” she asked.

Rick told her, “Since you were part of the rescue and the takedown, we'd be honored to have you all there.”

That didn't really answer the question, but Samar raised an eyebrow and nodded.

_I'll tell you more about that on the way back_ , Liz promised them silently. Out loud, she said, “The three of us have to get back to the city so we can catch our flight.” Then she looked at Deborah and Rick in turn. “And since I haven't had the chance to say it yet: I'm so sorry for your loss. I didn't have much time to get to know Brendan, but he impressed me as a good man when I met him.”

“Thank you,” said Rick, and Deborah thanked her as well. Ressler had seen the two of them carefully wrap the dragon bone in the banner that had been on the wall and take it out of the school with them. They shook hands with Ressler and Samar again, and the three from the Post Office made their departure.

As soon as they were in the car, Ressler asked what would happen to Brendan's organization now.

“I'm not totally sure,” Liz said with a sigh. “I think the general rule is that a family member takes over if the dragon in charge dies, unless some other arrangement has been made. But I don't know if--” She stopped, and her eyes widened. “Terrance. Oh my God.”

“Who?” said Samar, turning around in her seat to look at Liz in the back.

“Terrance Clark,” she clarified, her hand still raised as if to cover her mouth. “He was captured by Vandenberg when Red and I were, and he's silver. I hadn't even thought...”

Ressler gave a low whistle. He didn't know much about the guy, but he remembered Liz mentioning at some point when she had explained everything the first time that Terrance hadn't known anything about his dragon heritage before he transformed the first time. He had told Liz he was adopted as a very young child. And Brendan, Ressler recalled, had been gray in color.

“Okay. I think I'm still missing some key information here,” Samar said.

“Oh.” Liz grimaced and said, “I'm sorry, Samar. I thought I'd told you already, but I must have forgotten. There's a simple way to tell if two dragons are from the same bloodline.” She explained about the coloration cue. “And Brendan and Terrance are too close for that to be a coincidence.”

“I see,” Samar replied. Then she frowned. “But if I recall correctly, this Mr. Clark wasn't aware who his biological parents were. Has that changed since he was rescued from the warehouse?”

“I haven't spoken to him directly since then, so I'm not sure,” Liz said. She looked wistful. “I'll need to talk to him when we get back – even or especially if Red has already told him about all this.”

They did have a fair amount in common, Ressler thought as he gripped the steering wheel: they had both only relatively recently discovered their dragon heritage, they'd both been adopted as small children, and they both had fathers who were powerful in dragon society. That meant they both had the potential to be powerful themselves, because of their fathers. He felt a pang of some emotion he didn't care to examine closely when he thought back to his vague memory of Terrance Clark at the warehouse, and then thought about Liz and him meeting to catch up. “And what about these cultists?” he asked, going back to the question that had bothered him and Samar back in the auditorium. “What sort of 'justice' are they going to get from Brendan's people?”

“Everyone from Brendan's organization who wants to be there – and us, and Red, I guess – will gather somewhere in Brendan's territory to put the Order members on trial, of a sort,” Liz said. “Each member will be examined to see how much they knew of what was going on, and how guilty they are in the murder of Brendan and whoever else might have been killed by their group. That will be harder to know for sure with the telepaths, of course.”

“There will also be no way to keep the existence of human telepaths secret from Brendan Wilson's people,” Samar pointed out, “if that's something that concerns you and Reddington.”

Liz sighed again. “That's true. I hadn't even thought of that yet.”

Silence fell for a short while, as the three of them continued to try to process the events of the day. Then Ressler spoke. “Do you know what will happen to the Order members who are, uh, found guilty? And the innocent ones, for that matter?”

“I imagine those that Brendan's people find innocent will have their memories altered and be let go, taken back to wherever they're from,” Liz said. She hesitated, then went on, “It'll be up to Rick and Deborah what punishment is administered to those they find guilty. It might also involve having their memories altered, or it might be...”

“Execution,” Ressler supplied, when she trailed off. In the rear view mirror, she nodded once. “And you're all right with that?”

“The police would never be able to find proof that they killed and dismembered Brendan, and they probably wouldn't confess, either,” she said, though she shifted restlessly in her seat. “Plus, there's the risk they pose simply because they know about us.”

“Got it,” he said. And he did – he saw the merit of both of those arguments, and wasn't necessarily going to try to find counterarguments. What the Order had done to Brendan was horrific, and these people couldn't be allowed to just go free. But he sometimes felt like it would be all too easy to be swallowed up in the world and laws of dragon society, to the point that they all forgot that there was even another world and another set of laws that they used to follow.

“How did Reddington know for sure that the blood he found was from Deborah's boss, anyway?” Samar asked after another pause. They were almost back to the city center by now.

Liz responded promptly this time. “Oh, right. By scent.”

Samar and Ressler traded looks, both of them with their eyebrows raised. “The scent of his blood,” Ressler said.

She sat back and looked at both of them. “Yeah,” she said. “If we know the person, we can match their scent to the scent of their blood. And yes, I'm aware that's kind of creepy.”

“A logical ability, though,” Samar said. She smiled thinly. “And certainly less creepy than drugging a man and forcing him to participate, even in a small way, in a celebration of the ritual murder of his friend and patron.”

Ressler thought of the haunted grief and guilt in Rick's eyes, and clenched his jaw. “Not even in the same league.”

~  
The day after they arrived back in the US, Ressler got a call from another unfamiliar number toward the end of the workday (which had mostly consisted of a debrief about the trip and discussion of when and if Cermak would be extradited to the US). He answered it with, “Ressler.”

“This is Rick Clement,” said the man on the other end of the line. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

He stood up from his desk, catching Liz's eye as he did so. “Yeah, sure, Rick,” he said, and her eyes widened. “Let me just shut the door first.” But she did it for him. “All right, go ahead.”

“Raymond managed to get the Order members into the country without any trouble,” Rick said. “My organization is convening tonight to see that justice is done, and Raymond has already agreed to be there. If Elizabeth is interested in attending, and you and Samar as well, I have an address to pass along to you.”

Liz was still watching him, and at his look she nodded. He went back to his desk and pulled out a notepad. “I'll take that address.”

“Good.” He gave it slowly enough for Ressler to write it down, and then said, “We'll be starting right at eight.”

“See you then.” After he hung up, he showed the address to Liz. “Eight tonight. He said Reddington already agreed to be there.”

She nodded, her expression grave. “I think he's going to be the one doing the, um, examination of the cult members,” she said quietly. “Since there has to be a dragon to do it.”

“Right,” said Ressler. He'd almost forgotten to think about that necessity. Reddington was, no doubt, much more accustomed to that kind of use of this ability than his daughter. “What about Terrance?” he asked after a moment, looking down at the papers on his desk. “Have you talked to him yet? Do you know if he knows?”

“He does know,” she told him. “And thankfully, he knew about his father before the Order got to him. They'd met together a couple of times, he said.”

He couldn't help feeling relieved for the guy. To know nothing about your father until it was too late – and then to learn how he had died... At least Terrance didn't have to go through life without any memories of his father, even if those he had were obviously far too few. “That's good. Better, I mean,” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “I wonder if he'll be coming tonight. He told me he'd met Rick when he last met with his father – right before Brendan and Rick went to Prague.” She rubbed a hand over her face. “But tonight would be a pretty rough way to get some of your first experience in dragon society.”

Ressler scoffed. “I've got to agree with you there.” He wanted to ask her more about her conversation with the other dragon, but at the same time, he really didn't. He was similarly ambivalent when he thought ahead to the next time he and Terrance would meet – whether that was tonight or not.

When Ressler told Samar about the evening's plans, she said she would join them. “I'll be at your apartment in plenty of time.” Then she cocked her head at him. “Did Liz tell you some other bad news about this event we're attending, or is something else wrong?”

“What do you mean?” He met her eyes for a second and then looked away. “There's nothing wrong. It's just not going to be a very fun evening. Especially watching Reddington interrogate a bunch of people to find out if they're guilty or just stupid.”

“I agree that it won't be pleasant to watch,” she said, but she was still looking at him closely. “What else did you two talk about?” At his glare, she added, “Unless it's something just between you both, of course.”

For some reason, the idea that he and Liz would have discussed something that they needed to keep secret from Samar bothered Ressler even more than Samar's persistent questions. He shook his head and kept his voice even with effort as he said, “It wasn't anything like that, all right? She was just telling me that she had a chance to talk to Brendan's son Terrance. It turns out he got a little bit of a chance to get to know his father before he was killed.”

“That's good, for his sake,” said Samar. To his relief, she didn't pry any further.

That night, Ressler drove Samar and Liz to the address Rick had provided. It was in Brendan's territory, of course, which meant it took over an hour to get there. When they got to the hotel, Ressler wasn't surprised that they were stopped by a pair of security guards at the entrance. But the two men checked them against a list, examined their IDs, and then let them through. The event, the guards told them, would be in the main hall.

It looked like Brendan's people had reserved the whole hotel for the evening, as well as asking the staff to take the night off. There was quite a crowd inside. Ressler and the two women joined the crowd heading for the main hall. Although he doubted anyone was thinking about anything but the upcoming 'trial', Ressler stayed alert and close to Liz's side. Samar was on her other side.

Deborah was at the door to the main hall, greeting everyone who arrived. She smiled at the three of them. “Thank you for coming,” she said.

“Of course,” said Liz. She looked past her for a moment, into the hall. “Is there a particular place you'd like us to sit?”

“Rick will show you,” Deborah said. “It's just going to be you three, Raymond, Dembe, and our people – along with the Order, of course.” Her voice hardened on this last phrase.

Rick was talking with Reddington at the front of the room, but the two men broke off when they saw Liz and her lieutenants. As they walked over to join them at the front of the stage, Ressler's gaze went to the cult members – each of whom was tied to a chair on the stage. They were not wearing their Order robes, and they all looked anxious. Even the teenage kid and the woman who had been shot in the gut (who, Ressler was glad to see, was in a cushioned recliner rather than the hard plastic chairs everyone else had) seemed nervous, though they presumably knew they were not vulnerable to the normal kinds of draconic interrogation. Dembe was standing in front of them, watchful as ever.

“Good, you're here, Lizzie,” said Reddington. “Good evening, Samar. Good evening, Donald.”

Rick greeted each of them as well, and then ushered them to what would be, literally, front-row seats for the night's events. “Terrance said he'll arrive in about an hour, by which time most of the examination should be done,” he said. “He'll be next to you guys.”

Ressler did his best not to react outwardly. Neither their proximity to the stage nor the news that Liz's dragon friend would be joining them made him particularly glad.

The trial, when it began, was both not as terrible as Ressler imagined, and even worse. Rick called things to order a few minutes after Liz, Samar, and Ressler had arrived. The seats behind them had already mostly filled with members of Wilson's organization. Rick introduced Reddington to those who didn't know of him already, and announced that he would be examining each of the cult members to discover how much each one had participated willingly and knowingly in the murder and desecration of the body of Brendan Wilson. At this, there was a low murmur from the audience, and Ressler didn't have to have any telepathic ability to feel the anger simmering in the air. Before Reddington began, though, Rick said, “First, I'll lay out the facts of the case as we've determined them so far. This will include my own witness statement of what I experienced.”

“Rick is actually a lawyer by training,” Deborah whispered from the seat to Ressler's left.

When Rick started into his statement of the case, Ressler had no trouble believing he had been a lawyer – and a skilled one, at that. Methodically and thoroughly, Rick described how a business matter had taken Brendan and his top lieutenant to Prague, and how the Order had used a young man who seemed to be a telepath although he was human to track down the dragon. “It's still unknown how this group knew Brendan was in-country,” Rick said, “but I expect our examination will make that clear.”

Every time he said the word 'examination', Ressler noted, many of the older cult members flinched or otherwise showed even more fear.

“That young man,” Rick continued, pointing at the teenage telepath who mostly looked bewildered, “lured both of us out of the city using the simple ruse that he had information about a group of people who were resistant to mental interference by dragons. This, coupled with the fact that he could identify Brendan as a dragon with no trouble, was too intriguing for us to ignore.” His voice wavered just slightly, but the man went on, “The boy led us to the abandoned school near the edge of the city where the Order was based. Both Brendan and I were suspicious of any location so out of the way, but we believed the information he promised could be revolutionary, or at the very least provide a technical advantage to Brendan's business if he had access to humans with this capability.

“Initially, the few members of the Order who showed themselves treated us both with reverence and respect,” Rick told the audience. “They told us they were honored to have a dragon in their midst, and they addressed Brendan as an Immortal One.”

That reminded Ressler that he had forgotten to ask Liz a pretty important question. He told himself he would wait until after the trial, and ask her then. Samar would also want to know that answer.

“That was when they offered Brendan and me refreshments.” Now Rick's composure was getting shaky, but he took a breath and forged on. “We had been watching them prepare the tea, so we thought it was safe to accept. But each cup was drugged. Investigation since then has led me to conclude that we were each given a different drug. I was given the same drug the cult members all ingested on a daily basis. Brendan was given a particular formula intended to relax him, as well as make him very suggestible. We have a sample of that formula in our possession, and it is being analyzed carefully.”

He had to pause for another few seconds. “I was … too impaired to stop them when they started to persuade Brendan to go with them, to a courtyard large enough for him to transform. But they took me with them as well. I had to watch as the man who led this organization for decades, and who brought us all together, transformed, and then stood without resisting while two men from this group behind me slit his throat.” Rick swallowed and clenched his hands together, his voice dropping in volume. “They used a large, ornate-looking knife, and there was a basin underneath to catch his blood.” Now his hands were shaking. “That's how Brendan Wilson was killed. Slowly. The only small mercy is that the drug they gave him must have kept him from feeling much pain, since he showed no signs of even trying to struggle.”

Now the anger, revulsion, and grief in the room were even more palpable. Next to Ressler, to his left Deborah was crying silently, and to his right Liz looked as furious as she had in the school, before the teams had gone into the auditorium.

“The bloodletting was only the first step,” Rick said. “I was not made to witness everything else they did to Brendan's body, but I was kept regularly drugged and under guard. From what we've learned, the Order used a substance with some chemical similarities to THC to keep its members calm and compliant. It also has some hallucinatory properties. This no doubt contributed to how easily most of the Order came to believe its leaders' claims about the effects dragon blood, bones, and other body parts could produce if consumed.”

A thought struck Ressler then, and he felt even sicker than he had at the start of this description. Surely Rick wasn't going to tell them that he had been forced to--

“I refused any food that was offered to me during my imprisonment. I stayed lucid enough for that,” Rick said, and Ressler let out a small sigh of relief. The relief was premature, however, since the next thing Brendan's lieutenant described was being made to wear the robe that had, in fact, been painted with Brendan's blood, as well as having the blood painted onto his forehead.

There wasn't too much more to Rick's statement after that, except a summary of what they had learned so far were the cult members' beliefs regarding dragons. They believed that dragons were immortal, invulnerable (Brendan's killing, as Red had pointed out, notwithstanding), wise, possessing great power, and that they had the ability to move between planes of existence. At that, Liz couldn't restrain herself from giving a snort of derision. But that did-- well, maybe not explain, but provide a convenient reason why there weren't many to be found usually, and why the appearance of one could be portrayed as some kind of omen – or even as the dragon offering themselves to whoever found them. Of course, the Order also believed these powers and abilities could be passed on to humans who received the offering a dragon gave them.

“I won't spend any more of our time tonight describing the takedown of the Order's headquarters,” Rick said. “Any of you who want to know more details about that can talk to me or Deborah afterward. For now, I'm going to suggest that we move on to the examination.” He nodded to Reddington, who started to move forward.

“Wait,” said a voice from the audience. Ressler turned around to see a man standing up a few rows behind him. “I'd like to ask a question first.”

“Go ahead, Andy,” said Rick.

The man stared at Reddington, and then pointed at him. “What the hell is he doing here? And I don't mean for the examination – I know we need a dragon for that. But why him?”

“Because he offered to help me track down Brendan and Rick,” said Deborah, standing up and facing Andy. Reddington, meanwhile, stood on the stage calmly without speaking. “He and Elizabeth are the reason we have the Order members in our custody, and how we found Rick.”

“Okay.” Andy didn't look much reassured. “But what are they going to get in exchange? Are they just expecting to get Brendan's territory, split it between the two of them – and his people, too? Because I didn't sign up for this so I could be traded to another dragon like a-- a peasant or something.”

There was a murmur of angry agreement with Andy's words, and Ressler started to inch his hand toward the holster of his gun. But then Rick raised a hand to quiet his colleagues and said, “That's not going to happen. That's not how this works. Yes, this was a business arrangement that Raymond and Elizabeth entered into with Deborah, but she and I did not and would not trade away Brendan's territory. And your contract with Brendan ended with his death, so you are under no obligation to stay associated with him or his successor. That's true for everyone else here who made a pledge or signed any kind of contract to work for Brendan.”

“And what successor might you be talking about?” Andy asked, his arms crossed.

Rick sighed. “I was going to get to that later, but fine, I'll tell you all now: Brendan had a son who's also a dragon, whom he didn't know about until recently since his mother gave him up for adoption almost three decades ago. This son has agreed to take on the leadership of his father's organization.”

At that, Andy's jaw dropped, and he relaxed his arms. “Oh. And-- and we'll be meeting him soon, then?”

“Yes.” Rick waited a moment. “Any other questions?”

Andy sat down. A woman farther back called out, “Then what are these other two dragons going to get in exchange for their help?”

Ressler looked at Liz, his own eyebrows raised. She hadn't said anything about this yet. Liz shook her head slightly. _I'm still talking about it with Red_ , she said.

Meanwhile, Rick was telling the questioner, “I'm not going to get into all the details right now, but part of the deal Raymond and I have made concerns what will happen to those among the Order members who seem to be human telepaths.”

There was some more grumbling, but that seemed to be the end of the questions for now. Reddington began his examination then, and it was just as not fun to watch as Ressler had thought it would be. It was never his favorite thing to watch someone else be hypnotized, and now he got to watch it happen to twenty people – all of the Order members except the three who were telepaths. He had never been present when Reddington hypnotized someone before (that he remembered). It was clear that the man had much more practice at it than Liz did. Not that Liz wasn't good at it, but she had told him a number of times how she'd rather not do it, while Reddington didn't seem to have any such hesitation.

The majority of the Order members, under Reddington's questioning, were revealed to have joined the group because they were intrigued by rumors of powerful, ancient creatures that might share their power with a fortunate few. A smaller number were spouses or significant others who hadn't really wanted to go along with their loved ones at first. Many of them had been disturbed by the first dragon they had seen killed, but they had been encouraged not to protest too much by both the drugs and the leaders of the cult. These leaders were quickly identified as Andre Larsen, the man who had been leading the chant, Thomas Michaud, the man who had pulled the gun and been brought down in the auditorium, and Laura Aquino – the female telepath who had tried to persuade Liz to take the drug and sacrifice herself to the group. Aquino and Larsen shifted unhappily when they were repeatedly identified as the remaining cult leaders. But they were secured to their respective seats well enough, and being watched carefully enough, that there was little chance of them escaping.

All of the group members besides the telepaths and Larsen confessed that the drug and some persuasion in their minds (which they hadn't even necessarily known came from the telepaths) made it much easier to enter a kind of ecstatic state where they were unable to dwell on questions of whether it was right or wrong to kill Brendan, but could only repeat the words of the chants Larsen taught them, and follow along with the rest of the group.

The two men Rick identified as those who actually killed Brendan tried to use this excuse, too, but under Reddington's interrogation, they eventually confessed that they had wanted the power they believed Brendan would give them, and so they had purposefully killed him.

In the end, Reddington – who looked tired from his exertions even though he maintained his composure throughout the entire process – said to Rick, “As you and everyone else here heard, most of these people were manipulated into following their leaders – as is the case with most cults. That doesn't mean they're blameless, of course, but to me it means they are less to blame.” He looked at the two telepaths other than Laura Aquino: the teenage boy, and a young woman who looked about Whitney's age. Both of them were obviously frightened. “As far as these two, whether they're guilty or not, it's more difficult to know for sure. Obviously, there are other methods of interrogation that could be employed.”

“Please!” cried the kid. “I-- They told me the Immortal-- the dragons just needed a little bit of convincing, that they really did come to us to give themselves to us. I see now – they were lying.” Then he winced, and shot a scared but angry look at the Aquino woman. “You were! Can't you see they're not some mystical beings from another plane? They're people, and we...” He trailed off, and gulped. “We killed that man. And others.”

Reddington and Rick had both watched and listened to this closely. Reddington chuckled. “Well. Judge for yourself, but I found that performance adequately convincing.”

Rick nodded. “It wasn't bad, that's for sure.” He took a few steps closer to Laura Aquino. “And you? I remember you saying something about how someone had lied to you, back there at the school after you got shot. Who was it that told you you could become invulnerable?”

Rick, Reddington, and occasionally some other members of Wilson's organization continued to question the prisoners and discuss their levels of guilt for some time. It didn't take too long to decide that most of the Order members should simply have their memories of their time with the cult wiped and be taken back to their home countries. That would be a significant chunk of memory, but that was what would have to be done. For Larsen, and the two men who had wielded the knife to kill Brendan, the verdict was unanimous: execution. The men in question didn't seem surprised by this. They had all been scanning the room as if to find someone who might grant them mercy ever since their particular involvement had been revealed. From the looks of desperation on each of their faces now, they hadn't found any.

There was a large contingent in the room that wanted to execute Laura Aquino, too, but it wasn't unanimous. That was apparently a requirement for the death penalty in these cases. So instead, Rick suggested the equivalent of life in prison: life in a cell to be found and/or created by Wilson's people. This was met with approval from the audience, and dismay from the telepath herself.

At that moment, further discussion was derailed by the arrival of Terrance Clark. The young dragon was unmistakeable; even if Ressler hadn't recognized him from Vandenberg's warehouse, his bearing, clothes, and the fact that he was accompanied by a guy who was obviously his guard were enough to identify him. He seemed a little overwhelmed by the number of people in the room, and there was an air of grief that wasn't at all difficult to explain – but he walked to the front without hesitation. A murmur ran through the crowd.

Rick came down off the stage to shake Terrance's hand and speak to him quietly. Then Liz stood up to greet him with a quick hug. Ressler didn't realize he had been gripping the edge of his chair so tightly his hand hurt until she turned and introduced Samar and Ressler to Terrance. He stood up quickly.

Terrance was courteous to Samar, and to Ressler as well. He said, “Right, I remember you. You were the FBI agent who got inside the warehouse first, right?”

“That's me,” Ressler said, shaking the man's hand. “A lot has changed since then.”

He smiled, but the smile turned sad quickly. “Yeah, it has.”

Ressler had some trouble paying attention to the rest of the trial. He knew it was decided that those Order members who were to have their memories altered would have this done as soon as possible, so that they could be transported back to their homes. He knew that Terrance had politely thanked Reddington but said he would take on this duty, and Reddington had accepted this without protest. He knew Rick had announced that Reddington would take custody of the two telepaths that weren't among the leaders of the group. But any other details, Ressler missed. He was too busy trying not to notice the way Liz's eyes followed Terrance wherever he went, and how often Terrance looked toward her. It was pretty much impossible for him to ignore how miserable he was at this confirmation. He only hoped none of the dragons present were paying enough attention to him to notice. He was pretty sure Samar had noticed. And wasn't that conversation going to be fun, later?

Finally, the evening was adjourned. Ressler took a deep breath and gave himself a mental shake. He needed to be alert and to do his job now. He stood with Samar near the stage while Liz, Reddington, Rick, Deborah, and Terrance discussed a few more things that needed to be settled. Terrance thanked Liz and Reddington again for their assistance with the operation to find his father and Rick. Then he shook Reddington's hand again, and gave Liz another hug in farewell.  
~


	5. Chapter 5

~

The three of them were silent as they left the hotel. Then Liz sighed and shook her head. “I can't imagine preparing to join dragon society just in time to totally take over your father's organization. And to have to meet all the people who used to work for Brendan, at the same time as you have to plan when you're going to wipe all the cult members' memories...”

“It's certainly a tall order,” agreed Samar. “But Terrance seems like a capable young man.”

“Yeah,” said Liz.

Ressler couldn't think of anything to add to the conversation, so he said nothing as they all got into the car. Then he thought of something that would have to change the subject – although, he realized, depending on the answer, it wouldn't exactly lighten the mood. “So, uh, here's a question,” he said. “Those guys in the Order all genuinely believe that you and Reddington and the others are immortal. Are you?” She had told him already that dragons of, for example, Reddington's age might be older than they appeared, because dragon lifespans were long. But he had never asked this particular question before.

Liz looked down at her knees. “I'm not actually sure,” she said quietly. “Neither is Red. It's a hard thing to prove or disprove. But I know we can live for a very long time.”

“How long is very long?” Samar asked.

“Red told me he knows of a dragon who lived to be over three hundred.”

Ressler suddenly found it difficult to swallow past the knot in his throat. Yeah, this line of questioning was not cheering him up at all – and based on the closed-off expression on Liz's face, she had already considered the implications of this fact, too. Of course she had. She had known about it for years now. That was another reason she and Terrance could-- But he resolutely stopped that thought.

“That must be a difficult thing to comprehend,” said Samar.

Liz nodded. “I don't think it's ever really sunk in,” she told them. “I don't know that it will – for a long time.”

After they dropped Samar off, Ressler and Liz stayed pretty quiet for the rest of the drive back to the apartment. Finally, as Ressler was pulling into the parking area, Liz said, “I get the feeling something is bothering you, Ressler. What's going on?”

“Nothing's wrong,” he said as he took the keys out of the ignition. “It's just that it's been – a weird night.”

“It has,” she said readily. “But I don't think that's all that's bothering you.”

Ressler waited for her to get out of the car, and then locked the doors. He had no idea how to explain what the problem was without embarrassing them both, but he also knew she wasn't going to give up until she got something from him. “It's nothing you have to worry about,” he said finally. “I'll deal with it.”

“Okay, but now you're just making me more curious, and more worried.” Liz stopped him at the door to the apartment building with a hand on his arm. “Ressler. Come on. Talk to me.”

Sighing, Ressler turned to face her. He'd have to go for the direct approach, he figured. At least that would mean the embarrassment wouldn't last too long. “Maybe it's none of my business. But, uh, are you and Terrance … interested in each other?”

“What?” Her eyes widened and she stared at him for a full five seconds. “Ressler...”

So much for not prolonging this. “I was right – it's none of my business,” he said, and turned to go inside. But she stopped him again, this time by taking his hand.

“No, we're not,” she said. When Ressler turned back around, she met his eyes directly. “I'm guessing he's got too much on his mind right now to be thinking about romance – and he also has a long-term girlfriend who he's trying to figure things out with. And besides...” She took a breath. “Through no fault of Terrance's, I tend to associate the idea of being any more than friends with him with my time in Vandenberg's captivity. Certain aspects of it in particular.”

“Oh.” Ressler thought about that last reason. “Oh! God. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up--”

“It's fine.” She smiled a little and let go of his hand. “That's what was on your mind?”

“That was most of it,” he admitted. This was as clear as he had ever been about what he felt for her. He supposed it was up to her to do whatever she wanted with that information now.

He didn't think he was imagining the faint blush that colored her cheeks as she nodded and pulled open the door to the building. She looked back over her shoulder with another smile. “Well, then I hope I've set your mind more at ease.”

“You have,” he said, following her inside. And he did feel much better than he had just twenty minutes ago. Not only did he not have to worry about Terrance Clark, but Liz knew why he had been worried … and at the very least, that didn't bother her.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter after such a long one. It just feels like this little bit of resolution needed to be by itself.


	6. Chapter 6

It wasn't until a month later, as Liz felt like she was just starting to recover her equilibrium after the trip to the Czech Republic that had been so stressful and disturbing to everyone involved, that there was any real development with the situation with Cooper. Red came into the Post Office to speak to her, which was enough sign on its own that it was serious. Once they were alone, he got straight to the point. “I have news. My theory about the identity of Harold's friend was correct. I know him as a dragon with more interest in human politics than the draconic world. However, he's fully aware of our rules and customs, so you were correct in deducing that Harold is technically in his employ.”

“Okay, so what does all this mean for us?”

“I believe this man's aim was to gather intel on me through Harold. However, he seems to have overestimated his sway over your boss. That has meant that his only intel is the small amount that the DOJ already knows about my arrangement with the FBI.” Red smiled briefly. “So now he'll be looking for a different approach, and I think he will find that he regrets eschewing participation in our world.”

Liz frowned. “Bottom line: are we in danger of war, or not?”

“Yes and no,” was his answer. “My own intel suggests this man will try to come at us through the Bureau first. That will be a difficult balance to achieve at this point. Harold has other friends, and many of them seem eager for the Task Force to stay as it is.”

Liz was curious how he knew this, but she didn't bother to ask. “And meanwhile, I assume we won't just wait around to see what he'll try next.”

Red chuckled. “No. I have several ideas for our next steps. If I give you the name of this dragon, as well as those of a few of his underlings, do you suppose Ms. Lam could find out where they keep their money, and where it comes from?”

“I'd be happy to find out how her performance stands up to her claims.” Somehow she didn't think they'd be disappointed.

“I'm sure Aram could do it, but considering the circumstances, I'd prefer not to use any more Post Office personnel.” Red paused for a moment. “Apart from that, I may ask you to put your investigative skills to use looking into his past, his habits, and other parts of his life.”

“For blackmail?” she asked.

“For anything and everything you judge to be interesting and useful,” said Red. “My aim is to head this off as much as possible before our enemy can even begin.”

“Good,” said Liz. “If we're trying to keep this out of the Post Office for now, are you going to tell me I shouldn't pass on more details to Ressler and Samar?”

“I think the time for keeping them in the dark is past,” Red said. “But I would suggest you keep the details of Harold's relationship to the dragon out of it.”

That seemed fair. Liz didn't want to be carrying on all kinds of off-the-books activities while also hiding them from her friends on top of it. But she understood the need to be cautious about the latter fact. “Are we at the point of needing more security?”

“I doubt there will be any kind of physical threat yet.”

Liz made a mental note to ask about Erin, the guard Mr. Kaplan had referred to her before, if they did reach that point. She still didn't enjoy having Red make all the decisions about her safety, and she'd felt like she and Erin had understood each other. “All right.” Then she glanced reflexively toward her boss's office before asking, “Red, what about Cooper? Are we going to keep pretending there isn't anything he should know about?”

“Lizzie, you already know what I'm going to say. The less he knows, the safer he is.”

“Even with a war about to start, that he's right in the middle of? That's hardly fair to him.” She sighed. “I'm not saying we should go upstairs right now and tell him everything. But for one thing, I bet he'll notice if I do start digging into this guy's life.”

Red nodded. “I admit, I am curious to know exactly the breadth of his current knowledge. What did you have in mind to tell him?”

Of course, she didn't have a perfect answer. “He should at least know that he's about to be in the middle of something dangerous, for both him and us.”

“Do you intend to confirm his earlier suspicions, then?”

“I was thinking along the lines of confirming without giving any more details,” Liz said. “Just telling him that what he was hinting at is all about to come to a head.” She spared a thought for the time not so long ago when she wouldn't have believed anyone could have a good reason to be as purposefully vague with important truths as she was now proposing. But it really was the best course of action she could think of. Of the ways she could watch herself become more like her father, she supposed this wouldn't be the most disturbing. “And it might be good for us to know how he reacts to that.”

Red smiled again, broader this time, approving. “All right. You can tell me about it later. I have errands to run this evening.”

“What about the name of this dragon? So I can get Whitney started?”

“It's a name I'd rather not say in these walls.” He reached a casual hand toward her and slipped a piece of paper into her jacket pocket. “Look at it once you're outside.”

As Red left with Dembe, Liz took a deep breath and made her way to her boss's office. When she knocked, he invited her in. “What is it, Agent Keen?”

“Sir, I have something to tell you,” she said, closing the door behind her. “It's about what you talked to me about. Uh, before we went to the Czech Republic, when you told me about your – your friend.”

Cooper's eyes widened and he sat back. “Ah. I thought you might have forgotten.”

She shook her head and bit her lip for a moment. “I can't tell you much. But you weren't totally wrong. And what's important is that there's something big coming. It will involve your friend, and Reddington, and you, me, and probably the rest of the team.”

There was a pause, and she watched him take that in. “What kind of thing are we talking about? Should I be worried?”

“Maybe,” she said. At his expression, she went on quickly, “I'm not threatening you, sir. I wouldn't do that. I'm just making sure you know there may be a threat.”

“I see. And does this message come from you, or from Reddington?”

Liz hesitated. “I talked to him about telling you.” She still wasn't ready to give Cooper extra clues about her relationship to Red. Of course there was a decent chance he already knew they were both dragons, if he really did know Red was one.

Cooper frowned, then nodded slowly. “Then how does Reddington expect me to react to this?”

“I don't want you to be drawn into this without at least knowing that it's coming,” Liz said, with a slight emphasis on the first word. She turned to leave.

“So this is for my protection?”

“That's what I mean it for, sir,” said Liz, facing him again.

“This isn't Red using me as a go-between, to pass this message on to my friend at the DOJ?” Cooper asked.

“No, sir,” she said. She would, in fact, prefer that he didn't, although it would be vague enough not to tip this man off to anything major. And the fact that Cooper had that impression meant he probably had not been told very much at all about dragon politics.

“Well, I'll be on my guard, then,” he said, after another long moment. “Thank you, Liz.”

She blinked. The number of times he had called her by her first name was small. When she spoke again, it was with a smile, in spite of the awkwardness of the situation. “You're welcome, sir.”

~~~~~~

“War?” Samar repeated. It was after dinner, and she and Ressler were at Liz's apartment that evening. “Like the war Reddington had with Berlin?”

“It might not come to that,” Liz said. “This time, the enemy isn't a criminal – or at least, his public face is on the other side of the law. So Red thinks he'll come after us through the FBI first.”

“Who the hell is this guy?” Ressler asked.

Liz took a breath. “We're pretty sure it's a man named Tom Connolly. Ressler, you and I have met him before, when Reddington had us take down the Judge. That was before... I mean, I wouldn't have been able to tell he was a dragon.”

“Wow. Bizarre,” said Ressler. He rubbed a hand over his face and shook his head. “So. What's our next move?”

“I'm planning to start some very discreet digging at work, to see if I can narrow anything down. I'd be happy to have help with that.”

“I can talk to some of my contacts,” Samar offered. “Obviously, I would be very discreet, as well.”

Liz nodded. “Good. The other thing we'll all be doing is to be on the lookout for anything unusual. Oh, and I'm meeting with Whitney later to ask her to dig into Connolly's finances.”

“So are we hiding this from Cooper, and Aram, and everyone else at work?” Ressler said. “Even though they might be at risk, too? This is a big deal. This guy is technically our superior.”

“Cooper knows there's a threat, because I told him,” said Liz.

Both of her friends stared at her. Ressler cleared his throat. “I assume that's all you told him.”

“Well, there's not much more I could say. I didn't tell him who the threat is, or why he would be after us. And I assume he thinks the threat is primarily to Red.” All of that was technically true. “I can probably tell Aram just that much, too, and tell him to keep it to himself.”

“Leave that to me,” said Samar, and Liz thought she detected a hint of a challenge in her tone.

“That's fine,” she said, keeping her tone deliberately calm. She wasn't blind enough to have missed Aram's crush on Samar, and she hoped the other woman didn't think Liz wanted to interfere. Thankfully, Samar simply nodded, and the tension seemed to ease.

Afterward, Samar left (Liz wondered if she might actually be going to meet Aram), and Liz called Whitney to make sure she was fine with her coming over. The younger woman said her evening was free, so she and Ressler went to Whitney's apartment to meet with her. After handing her the slip of paper with Connolly's name as well as those of a few of his associates, Liz said, “I'm going to remind you to be careful. I'm sure you would, anyway, but this man could be dangerous if he finds out someone is investigating him.”

Whitney nodded. “Can I ask who he is?”

“He works for the government,” said Liz. She exchanged glances with Ressler. “And I should tell you that my father and I believe he might be planning something against us. That's why I want information about him.”

“I see,” said Whitney. She chewed her lip.

“Whitney,” said Liz, making a decision, “we may be able to head off this whole situation without anyone needing to worry. But I've been thinking I should suggest this to you, anyway: how would you feel about moving so that you're in my territory?”

The younger woman looked up from where she had sat down on the couch in front of her laptop. “Oh.” She looked and sounded pleased and a little hesitant as she went on. “I, um, I think that sounds good. How far would I need to go?”

“Not far. I could email you links to a few possible places,” said Liz. She still hadn't gotten over the feelings of awkwardness that being in the position of patron gave her. Knowing her responsibilities came slightly more naturally by now, though.

“Okay. That would be great,” said Whitney.

“Let me know if you find a place you like. And if you need help moving.”

“Oh, don't worry about that! I can ask someone at work for help,” Whitney said quickly. “But I will tell you when I find something.”

Liz cleared her throat. “Good. Well, uh, keep me posted about what you find out.”

“Of course,” said Whitney. “Glad to be able to help. Good night, Agent Keen, and Agent Ressler.”

“I told you she wouldn't mind,” said Ressler as they exited the building.

Liz shook her head a little. “After all this, I hope she's as good as she said she was with financial stuff. I mean, not that there have been any complaints about her accounting. But she's so eager. I'd feel really bad if I had to ask someone else.”

“She doesn't strike me as the type to lie just to make herself look good,” Ressler pointed out.

“You're right,” she said. Of course he was. She was worrying for no reason – probably, she recognized, because it was easier to focus on a relatively minor issue than on the prospect of war. “I should really ask Samar to move, too,” she said, as she got into the passenger seat of the SUV. “I'm guessing she won't be quite as eager.”

Ressler raised an eyebrow in acknowledgement, and then went around to the driver's side after shutting her door. He slid in and started the car. “Probably not. But if you give her some time to get used to the idea, I bet she'll come around.”

“Yeah,” said Liz, without much confidence.

A few minutes into the trip back, Ressler broke the silence again. “Liz, I have to ask: what are you going to do if Connolly is better at this than Reddington seems to think?”

“What do you mean?” she said. She was pretty sure this was a conversation she didn't want to have.

His glance toward her was frustrated. “Hell, all he'd have to do to shut down the Task Force is make some obvious announcement that you're Reddington's daughter, somewhere people couldn't ignore it.”

Liz swallowed. “He may not know that. This isn't a dragon who comes to the gatherings we've been to.”

Ressler scoffed. “Okay, so there's a tiny chance he doesn't know, but he probably knows people who could find out easily enough. And shutting down the Task Force is just the first thing that comes to mind. I think this guy is planning to be the next Attorney General. But do you know what you'd do, if your relationship to Reddington was revealed? What Samar and I would do?”

This was definitely a conversation she didn't want to have. She had consistently refused to consider those very questions in any depth. “No, I don't,” she admitted, voice low, looking out of the window instead of meeting his eyes.

“You don't know.” He sighed. “Why not?”

“Because I don't want to think about it, okay?” She turned around and glared at him. “Every time I think about it, I can't get any further than realizing I couldn't just go on the run with Red and leave you both behind.” She twisted her hands together in her lap until she realized she was touching her scar. Her voice lowered again. “When I get to that point, my mind just kind of blanks out and I have to think about something else.”

When she did meet his eyes, Ressler still looked frustrated. There was resignation there, too. “You're just taking for granted that – that the end of the Task Force would mean the end of your FBI career, and the end of you even trying to live a normal life?”

“You mean a human life,” she snapped.

His face reddened, but he didn't drop his eyes from hers. “I think I know enough to say that a normal life for a dragon doesn't have to be as a fugitive from the law.” He clenched his jaw. “And you didn't answer my question.”

They were almost to their building by now. Liz felt her own frustration grow, though she was aware that Ressler's questions weren't the real reason why she was mad. “I do take for granted that I'll be detained, at the very least, if the FBI learns I'm Raymond Reddington's daughter. No one will believe I didn't always know, and everyone who already thinks I'm his accomplice will be sure of it.”

Ressler pulled into his parking space and killed the engine. He didn't protest the truth of her words.

“And even though I'm not his accomplice, strictly speaking, if they look into my business they'll probably find enough connections between us to arrest me for something,” she said. It was the first time she'd said this out loud, and even though it wasn't exactly news, it still gave her a cold feeling in her gut. “So my 'normal' life would be over, no matter what I did.”

There was silence for a full minute. Then Ressler spoke. “I get it. I can't argue with you. And I can't say I blame you for wanting to avoid going to prison for the crime of, what, taking the opportunity to get to know your father?”

Liz blinked back the tears that his understanding brought to her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it out, regaining control before she spoke again. “Okay. So you can feel free to keep thinking about it, I guess. Maybe you'll come up with a solution that isn't awful before I do.” She reached to open her door, but then faced him again. “Because I can't just leave you and Samar to the mercy of whatever other dragons would come scavenging around our territories if we left, whether or not there's a war going on. And I don't want to never see you again, but I don't want to force you to go on the run with me.” By this point her control was slipping again, and she wiped a hand under her eyes. “That's why I haven't made any decision about what I would do.”

Ressler looked like he might be close to breaking down, too. He cleared his throat. When he spoke, his voice was raspy, but it was firm. “We'll figure it out, Liz.” Then he reached over and put his hand on her arm.

She managed a weak smile, and put her other hand on top of his. “I'm going to hold you to that.”

“Good, because I mean it,” Ressler said. He cleared his throat again, then squeezed her arm gently before moving his hand away and turning to leave the car.

Liz found that she was unwilling to face being alone immediately after such an emotionally draining conversation. She also knew there were inherent hazards to staying in each other's company while they were both still so emotional – but of the two options, she still knew which she preferred. As they went inside, she made sure she would sound calm before saying, “I don't know about you, but I could use a drink. And I have some beer in my fridge, and I actually just cleaned my apartment from top to bottom, so I can guarantee that my couch doesn't have any mysterious stains or crumbs on it.”

Ressler grinned. “Well, that sounds too good to pass up. Let me just change out of my work clothes, and I'll be right over.”

Drinks and a movie served as an excellent distraction from their troubles, as Liz had hoped. Then, when the movie was over, both of them drowsy and relaxed, Liz looked over at Ressler and realized she hadn't given him much chance to react to her words in the car earlier. “Ressler.”

“Uh huh?”

Her heart beating a little faster, she shifted on the couch, leaning closer to him. “If I ever did leave, if that was what we all decided was the best choice... what would you want to do? I didn't ask.”

He blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “I have to make a decision before you do?” His tone was teasing.

“Of course not,” she said. “I just didn't want to have said my piece without you getting the chance to say anything.”

“Well. I'll admit it's hard for me to imagine doing anything other than working for the Bureau.”

Liz nodded.

He opened his mouth to continue, then took a few more seconds to think. “It would be hard, to leave this for something so... uncertain. It would be hard in a lot of ways. But I knew what it could mean when I pledged my loyalty to you.” His expression was calm, somehow, though she could read that he wasn't sure how she was going to react.

The sudden lump in Liz's throat threatened to make it difficult to speak. Or breathe. Instead of either option, she reached out and took his hand. When she could inhale without sobbing, she finally said, “Thank you.” With her other hand, she wiped the tears off her face again. “I know I shouldn't be, I know it's selfish, but I'm glad you did come into the warehouse before the drug wore off that day.”

Ressler shook his head. “No, don't apologize for that. I'm glad, too.”

“You are?” Her voice was quiet, disbelieving.

He reached over with his free hand and gently pushed a lock of hair off her face. When had they moved close enough for him to do that? “Yeah. Of course it's been crazy, and there have been a few times I almost wished I'd let you give me that _Matrix_ blue pill treatment.” A corner of his mouth turned up for a moment. “But if I could go back and do it again, I'm pretty sure I'd make the same choices.”

Her heart now felt like it was both racing and melting. “Well, I don't know about that,” she said, resting her own free hand on his face. “I'd rather you give your past self some advice about avoiding David Kent's men, at least.”

He huffed a laugh. “All right, you got me there. I wouldn't mind changing that.” Then he closed the remaining distance between them and kissed her.

Liz responded immediately, and when they came up for air, she was all but in his lap and their hands were tangled in each other's hair. She brought one down to stroke his face again, breathing heavily, and whispered, “Ressler. Are you sure you want this?”

His eyebrows rose, and he smiled again. “Liz, I've wanted this for a long time.”

She spared a moment to wonder how long. “Me, too,” she told him. “I just – I thought – because we work together, in two totally different ways, and I don't know what's going to happen –”

“I know,” he cut in softly. “But shouldn't we be happy right now, even if it's going to get complicated?”

She kissed him then, and then sighed against his lips. “Yeah. You know, you're very persuasive.” She wrapped her arms around him.

He returned the favor, pulling her even closer to him. “I'm just glad I'm not trying to persuade you of anything you don't already want. I have a feeling that might take a little more effort.”

She moved back just a bit so she could look at him, and cocked an eyebrow. “Hey now, that could be construed as you calling me easy.”

He snorted. “There is nothing easy about you, Liz. Not in any definition of the word.” Then he brought his lips to hers again, and neither of them spoke for several minutes.

_You want to take this somewhere more comfortable?_ Liz asked silently, when she had enough coherent thought to suggest it. Being able to speak without disengaging her mouth in a situation like this was one convenient facet of her telepathy she hadn't spent much time considering before now.

Her partner didn't speak, either, but his thoughts were very clear. And before she could even move, he was standing up with her clinging to him. She might have made a squeak of surprise as she gripped tighter. He didn't seem to mind. And by the time they reached Liz's bedroom, neither of them had any further need to think about anything else.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight language warning for this chapter, if that bothers you.

~~~~~~

Liz was disoriented to wake up with an arm reaching around her from behind. But it only took a second for her to remember the events of the previous night. A jolt of adrenaline went through her. Her eyes opened completely, and then she carefully stretched over to grab her phone from the bedside table. It was about time for both of them to start getting ready for work. She made to put the phone back but didn't quite get it far enough, and it fell to the floor with an audible clatter.

Ressler said something unintelligible and turned over, moving his arm off her as he did.

“Sorry,” she whispered, not sure whether he was actually awake or not. She bent over and retrieved her phone, which was thankfully undamaged.

There was a sharply indrawn breath behind her, and she turned quickly. “What?”

Ressler stared back at her. “Nothing. I, uh, just thought maybe last night was a dream.”

She smiled, and leaned over to kiss him. “Nope. Real.” His bedhead was truly impressive, although she doubted her hair looked great, either.

“Thank God,” she thought was what he muttered as he kissed her back.

“But it's actually time to get up,” she said, a moment later, pulling back from him reluctantly.

He groaned. “I forgot it's only Wednesday.”

“Yeah. I'm going to go get in the shower. I think I still have bagels, if you want to eat something.” She sat up and pushed the covers off herself.

“I think I might go back to my apartment and get ready, too. But thanks.”

All in all, that could have been a lot more awkward, Liz thought, as she continued through her morning routine. She didn't get the feeling that Ressler had gone back to his place just to escape. His mood, as far as she could tell, had been content – he had shown no trace of second thoughts. Which was good, because as much as it was easy for her to feel anxious about what they were going to do next, she had no regrets, either. Far from it.

She still didn't, even a half hour later when she was almost ready and she went to let Ressler back in when he knocked. “You have a key, you know,” she said. “And you definitely have the right to use it.”

He came in and shut the door. “I'll keep that in mind for next time. You ready?”

“Just about,” she said, and turned to go back to the bathroom to finish doing her hair.

“Hey,” he said, catching her hand gently to keep her from leaving. “Are we telling anyone about this? Us?”

She squeezed his hand. “I'm not planning to keep it a secret, but I'd rather not make an official announcement or anything. It's our business.”

He nodded. “Yeah. That's kind of how I was feeling, too.”

“Good,” she said. When she was done in the bathroom, and had made sure she had everything she needed, she came back out. “You know, I had a thought. On the subject of what we were talking about a minute ago? Given what Samar figured out while we were being as careful as we could, and given that Red is so irritatingly adept at reading people, it probably wouldn't be a secret for long, anyway.”

Ressler's grimace in response to this was probably exaggerated, but she guessed he was genuinely not looking forward to what Red might say. She wasn't, either. Still, she was sure they would figure it out.

Red wasn't there when they showed up at work, which made it easier not to feel paranoid that everyone could immediately tell they'd spent the night together. In fact, she successfully shifted her mindset to watching for any sign of a move from Connolly. The only thing she noticed, however, was that Aram seemed nervous. When she asked him if he was okay, he assured her that he was. But something was obviously bothering him.

_Samar,_ she asked privately, _did you tell Aram about the threat?_

The other woman met her eyes across the bullpen and nodded fractionally.

_Okay,_ she replied, and left it at that. She felt better knowing how many trustworthy people would now not be caught totally unaware, if something did happen.

~~~~~~

It was with some trepidation that Liz texted Dembe to inform Red that Whitney already had some information for them. She told herself that she had no reason to be anxious for what Red might see or say, though. As much as he might like to pretend it was, her private life was not his business. Of course, she admitted to herself, it might be her who was pretending, since Red was perfectly capable of making anything he chose into his business.

In any case, she told both Ressler and Samar that Whitney had news, and that she'd passed that message on to Red as well. Liz's own carefully begun investigation had thus far run into only dead ends. Neither of her friends reported any progress, either. In fact, when Samar heard that Whitney had something, she surprised Liz by asking to come when she and Ressler went to see her – as she said, it would be nice to see any information about this guy, since all their efforts had been fruitless at this point. Liz had to agree.

Whitney welcomed Samar with her usual enthusiasm. “Do you all work together at the FBI, then?”

“That's right,” said Samar, smiling. “It's nice to meet you, Whitney. I've heard a lot about you.”

Whitney blushed. “Really?”

“Yes. It sounds like we're fortunate to be working with you.”

The younger woman blushed even more, but didn't take long to open the files she'd been looking through on her laptop. “There's still one name on the list you gave me that I haven't even gotten to,” she said to Liz, “but I thought you should see this right away.”

“What is it?” Liz asked. She saw a variety of names, dates, and other numbers on the screen.

“There's a lot that's interesting, but I think the most important thing is just how much money Thomas Connolly has. I've found ten accounts, and there may be more. Most of them are offshore. My running total for how much he has is over fifty million dollars.”

Ressler whistled, and Liz leaned in to see where in the screen that number was. She shook her head. “That definitely suggests he's been around a while, and that he doesn't just work for the government.”

Whitney nodded. “I'm still tracing where it's all coming from. I've got a short list of shell companies if you want to see those. But there's one other major thing I should tell you. I guess it's not surprising, but it could be useful: at least one of those fake companies has been in operation in some form for longer than Thomas Connolly has been alive.” She opened another file on the screen and showed them. “Connolly was supposed to have been born in 1954, but this company here –” she pointed to what looked like an accounting file from a business – “seems to have been founded in 1942.”

Liz frowned. She remembered when Red had almost casually mentioned to her that the identity he now used was not his first. She still hadn't ever asked him how old he actually was. “Any idea who founded it?”

“There's no record of that, that I've been able to find,” Whitney said. “If it is anywhere, I guess there's no reason why something that old would be accessible online.”

“Yeah. But it does look like it belongs to Connolly right now?”

“A lot of the profits find their way to him, that's for sure,” she said.

“So it's a family thing?” Samar wondered.

“Not necessarily,” said Liz. “It's just as likely that the man known as Thomas Connolly is in reality much older than that identity.”

Samar's eyes widened. “Right. Of course.”

“This is good, Whitney,” said Liz, trying not to think too much about the uncomfortable conversation about dragon lifespans she'd had with Samar and Ressler after their run-in with the Order of the Immortal Wings. Above all, she was not going to think about what the gist of that conversation meant for her and Ressler. It was too soon to give in to that ridiculous, overdramatic train of thought. She shook herself mentally. “Uh, this is very good. This is exactly the kind of intel we'll need. Can you put those main highlights on a flash drive for me?”

“Sure,” said Whitney. She opened the laptop carrying case that was on the table next to her computer and fished one out.

As the younger woman transferred the files, Liz went on, “Keep looking. And like I said before, make sure you keep covering your tracks.”

Whitney nodded. “I will. Oh, and I also wanted to tell you I'm going to go look at one of the apartments you recommended the day after tomorrow.”

Liz told her again that if she needed help, all she had to do was ask, and Whitney again thanked her but said she would be fine. “Okay. You know where to find me if you need anything, or if anything else comes up that seems urgent. I'm planning to show this information to my father later tonight.”

“Sounds good,” said Whitney, handing her the flash drive.

As they left, Liz turned to Ressler. “We still have someone watching her, right?”

He nodded. “Nothing to report.”

“Good. While we're still under threat, I think I'll want her watched even once she's moved,” she said. “It shouldn't be necessary once we're through this, though.”

“Why not?” asked Samar, as they stopped outside their cars. “Is she moving into your territory?” When Liz had acknowledged this, Samar cocked an eyebrow. “Do I already live inside those boundaries, or am I supposed to move, too?”

“You're outside the border,” said Liz, “but I'm a little less worried about you being able to protect yourself if something happened, so it's not as urgent.” She straightened her shoulders. “Still, I probably am supposed to ask you to move. You're my lieutenant.”

“I have been for several months now,” Samar pointed out. She sighed. “Your confidence in my ability to protect myself aside, I don't commit to something without meaning it. I think I've proven that. So if you have suggestions for apartments in your territory, I'll take a look at them.”

In her desire not to overburden Samar, Liz had evidently risked offending her. She pressed her lips together, torn between chagrin and irritation. “I'll send you an email tonight. I guess I'm still trying to find the balance between not giving you commands while still acknowledging your position.”

Samar's lips twisted into a wry half-smile. “I can understand that. In that case, let me request that if there is something I'm expected to do, I would like to know about it, at least.”

“Fair enough,” said Liz. “I'll do my best.”

“So are we meeting Reddington next?” said Ressler, after a moment.

“I am,” she said. “You two don't have to.”

She caught the relief in Ressler's eyes as he nodded.

~~~~~~

Red listened to her report of Whitney's activities, and received the flash drive, without giving any outward sign that he'd noticed anything new. “Assuming she is covering her tracks as well as she says she is, it's very good to know she's as useful as it seemed she would be.”

Liz nodded. “She's also finally going to move into my territory. I don't think one guard for her is good enough, right now.”

“And Samar?”

“She's going to start looking for a new place, too,” said Liz, “once I give her an idea of where to look.” When he didn't immediately speak, she went on. “What about you? Have you found anything new about Connolly, or his plans?”

“Nothing concrete,” said Red. “It's all the same rumors I've been hearing for a while now. That in and of itself will be troubling soon if it remains unchanged. If it weren't for how well your Ms. Lam has done already, I would be starting to marvel at how well Connolly protects himself from scrutiny.”

Liz frowned. “Hopefully, hers won't be the only intel we have for long.”

“It does sound like an excellent start, however,” said Red.

She had no option but to take his word for it. “Are we going to have a case to work at the Post Office soon, at least?”

Red smiled. “Soon. But be careful what you wish for, Lizzie – you might prefer boredom, once the conflict with Connolly heats up.”

She scoffed. He had a point, but she had never been good with just sitting around. And he knew it.

“I'm afraid I don't have the time free tomorrow for a hunt, but if you're in the mood, you know that land is always open to you, whether or not I'm there.” Before Liz could answer, he added, “Of course, I've also noticed you have another new option for letting off steam, which you might prefer.”

Liz looked up quickly. She stared at him, willing herself not to blush. Despite the futility of it, she almost demanded to know how he knew. Instead, she breathed steadily and then said through clenched teeth, “Yeah, I might.”

He just nodded calmly. “In fact, unless you have anything else to discuss, I won't keep you from spending the rest of the night in whatever way you'd like.”

“No, I think that's all,” Liz said, still in a carefully controlled voice. She stood. “Good night.”

“Good night, Lizzie,” said Red. “Pass on my greetings to Donald.”

Liz waited until she had left the house to rub her hands across her face and sigh. The worst part of this was that she really had been looking forward to going back home and having another very pleasant evening with her partner. And now if she didn't, it would be because of Red's apparently innocuous comments. Which she would also probably have to pass on to Ressler in some form, because she had to let him know that Red knew. As she got into her car and started it, Liz groaned. It was impossible that her father could still be this infuriating, wasn't it? And yet...

~~~~~~~

Liz did her best to recover from her embarrassment and irritation by the time she got home. It was just about nine, but she didn't need to check telepathically to know that Ressler was still up. She knocked, and he opened the door. “Hi. Uh, I'm going to tell you right away because it has to be said: he does know. Like we thought.”

Ressler's eyes widened, but he stood back to let her enter before closing the door behind her. “And?” He swallowed.

“And – nothing. He just mentioned it casually, like it was obvious but not a big deal.” She sighed. “I'm sure you can imagine.”

“Yeah,” said Ressler. “Okay.”

“This was after we'd talked through the developments about Connolly. So he just put it out there at the end of the conversation,” she said.

Ressler shook his head. “Of course.”

“I'm sure you also know he'll probably still bring it up with you the next time both of you are in the same place,” she said.

“Believe me, that has crossed my mind,” said Ressler.

Liz winced at his tone. “Yeah. Uh, sorry. Anyway, there's not much else to tell you about tonight.” She shifted her stance. She hadn't felt this awkward talking to him since her last season.

“Are you okay?” he asked, just as she was beginning to think she should leave.

“Yeah, I'm fine. I just... had a different idea of how coming to see you tonight might go, but now we're both – I mean, I knew Red would have to butt in, and –”

“Liz, stop,” he interrupted, grabbing her hand. “We both knew that. Nothing you just told me caught me off guard. And I'm not ready to let Red dictate anything about this. Not even if it's awkward at first.”

She took a deep breath and managed to smile. “Good. I'm not, either. Ready to let him interfere, I mean.” She looked down at their joined hands, her smile fading. “But I – I still feel like I'm making this some kind of ordeal for you. And that's the last thing I want.”

He took a step closer, looking incredulous. “Liz. You think I'm, what, going to give up on this – on you – because your father's making some comments that we don't like?”

Now there were tears threatening again, and she sniffed. “No, but it's not just that. My whole life is so crazy. Every day, it's like there's some kind of cosmic contest running to see whether it'll be crazier than yesterday.” She laughed, although it was closer to a sob. “And we're not even technically the same species! How fucking insane is it that I can even say that?”

Ressler brought his hands up to her shoulders and slid them down, stroking her. “You're acting like this is new, like it should scare me. But it doesn't. I already know you, Liz. I've known you for years. You're strong, and stubborn, and so brave that it scares the hell out of me sometimes. And you're beautiful.” One of his hands reached for her face, and she leaned into his touch. “None of those things stopped being true when I found out you happen to be a dragon, too.”

She took a shuddering breath and turned her head so she could kiss his palm. Then she closed the distance between them and kissed him soundly. “I can tell you mean that,” she told him, when they broke apart, both catching their breaths. “And that's good. Because I'd kind of already decided, even if I still think you're braver and a better a person than me, that if you really know what you're getting into, then this is what I really want, too. I want to make this work.”

“Glad to hear it,” he said, his voice rough. “And I think we do work. But for right now, I'm definitely up for some more practice.”

Liz giggled. “I like the sound of that.” She ran her hands down from his face to his chest.

~~~~~~

Much later, as Liz was thinking about letting herself drift off to sleep, she remembered something and swore, then had to laugh.

Ressler made a drowsy questioning sound next to her.

She turned toward him. “It's nothing important. I just realized I was supposed to email Samar tonight, but somehow I forgot.”

“Oh right, about an apartment.”

“I guess I could go get my phone right now and at least tell her I'll do it in the morning,” said Liz. “Although that would involve getting out of bed.”

Her partner smiled. “I, personally, don't recommend that.”

“Nah,” she agreed. She rolled over and leaned her head on his shoulder, then shifted so he could put that arm around her. “She probably wouldn't see the message until tomorrow anyway.”

~~~~~~

When Liz apologized to Samar at work for not having sent her the information yet, the other woman nodded. “I did actually call you at one point, but I guess you missed it.”

“Yeah, sorry,” said Liz. She hadn't even seen the missed call until that morning – not that she felt the need for Samar to know that. “I'll be sure to send it to you today, though.”

“Not a problem,” said Samar. Liz wasn't sure if her friend's eyes rested on her for longer than usual or if she was just imagining it.

Either way, Liz found that the work day went by both faster and slower than normal. It was faster because she was in a good mood, and none of the day's minor annoyances were enough to conquer it. It was also slower, because whenever her mind happened to drift to any number of very pleasurable moments from last night, it seemed like there was an eternity between now and the time that she and Ressler could recreate (or better yet, improve upon) them.

Ressler, too, was cheerful. Every time Liz looked over and saw him smiling, she couldn't help but mirror his expression. Why had they waited so long for this? She could remember the reasons if she tried, but they didn't seem as important as the fact that they were obviously making each other so happy.

There were a few moments where she caught herself recalling the last time she'd had feelings like these, which was enough to dim her contentment. But she shook it off every time. This would not be Tom Keen again. She trusted Donald Ressler, and he had proven himself over and over again to be worthy of that trust. Resolutely ignoring the tiny, paranoid voice in her head that told her she had trusted Tom, too, Liz tried to focus on work.

“Agent Keen!”

Liz looked up from her desk. It was Aram, and he had clearly been trying to get her attention for a few seconds. “Yeah. Sorry, Aram. What is it?”

“I was just talking to the Assistant Director, and he said he'd like to see you if you have a moment.”

“All right. Thanks. I'll be right there.” She stood. She had no idea what to expect, what he might want to talk to her about. It was probably better if she assumed it had something to do with Connolly.

“Okay,” said Aram, still looking concerned. “Are you feeling all right, Liz? You seem distracted.”

“I'm fine,” she told him, smiling. “Don't worry.” She felt Ressler's faint amusement as she left the office and went upstairs.

“Sir, Aram said you wanted to see me?” she said, as she came in.

“Please shut the door, Agent Keen,” Cooper said. When she had, he went on. “I'm going to start by asking you if there's anything else you can tell me about this threat you mentioned before.”

Liz pressed her lips together. “No, sir, I can't. I don't have more intel now than I did before.”

Cooper frowned. “Then I'll tell you why I find that troubling. I had an interesting phone call with my friend at the DOJ last night. It wasn't very long. He just wanted me to, and I quote, 'ask Agent Keen if she knows what's coming.'”

Liz didn't bother to try to hide her surprise and alarm. She clenched her hands together and took a deep breath. She had to play this right. “So. I guess you just asked me. You think he knows about this threat I mentioned before, too.”

“It's a big coincidence, otherwise, especially since you said he would be involved. Can you tell me why he would specify you in his phone call?”

She sighed. “Does he know Reddington works closely with me?”

“I believe he's aware that you're the one Reddingon speaks with,” said Cooper. He paused for a moment. “That would make sense, of course. The thing is, I didn't get the impression that he wanted me to ask you so you could ask Reddington.”

Privately, Liz's heart sank. It seemed likely, then, that Connolly did know she was Reddington's daughter. Outwardly, she shrugged. “In that case, your friend must be mistaken as to how closely I work with him. I'm sure you know this by now, sir, but Red doesn't give me a lot of details.”

Cooper's lips twitched. “He doesn't give anyone a lot of details.”

Except when he's telling one of his stories, Liz thought to herself wryly. “Exactly.” Then she pushed her hair behind her ears and considered what else she could say. “From what I do know, sir, it sounds like Reddington isn't expecting this threat to be like the situation with Berlin. He seemed to think the first attack we could expect would be more bureaucratic in nature.”

Raising his eyebrows, Cooper said, “Bureaucratic? You're not saying that Reddington thinks my friend is the source of this threat, are you?”

Liz grimaced. “I honestly don't know, sir.” She'd gotten better at lying, even without using her draconic gift for added convincing. “These are just my impressions. I could be wrong. As I said, I didn't get a lot of details.”

He acknowledged this. “Hmm. All right. I'll take that under advisement, impression or not. That's all, Agent Keen.”

Ressler was waiting for her when she got back to their office. “Everything all right?”

“I think so,” she said. _Cooper told me Connolly called him last night with some vague warning, that he should ask me what's coming next. And Cooper didn't think it sounded like he meant 'Ask her to ask Reddington.' He thought it was meant for me._

“What did you say to that?” he asked quietly.

She sat. Her earlier good mood wasn't gone, quite, but it had faded. _I kept it vague, too._ She explained the gist of what she'd told their boss, including her hint that Connolly might be the one behind the threat. _I'm not sure what he'll do with that. But I think it was enough for the moment._

“I don't like this guy calling Cooper out of the blue,” said Ressler.

Liz remembered that she hadn't told him that she and Red suspected Cooper was working for Connolly, at least in name. She nodded. It was still true, regardless. _Yeah, it's suspicious._

After a moment, Ressler asked, “Are you planning to tell Samar?”

“Tell me what?” Samar stood in the doorway to their office.

“I just had an interesting conversation with Cooper,” said Liz. There was no reason not to pass on this development. She summed it up as concisely as possible, once again keeping it silent.

Samar shook her head. “I agree that this is suspicious. Although I suppose it's good that it sounds like Cooper wants to work with you, with us, against this threat.” She sighed. “I wish the two of you had been talking about what I thought you were talking about when I walked by.”

Liz raised an eyebrow. “And what was that?”

She kept her voice low, thankfully. “I thought you might be discussing whether or not to tell me that you two have obviously slept together, and I was going to save you the trouble. Because it is very obvious, with the way you've been looking at each other today. And that would have been a much less grim topic of conversation.”

Blushing faintly, Liz exchanged glances with Ressler. “Well, we weren't trying very hard to keep it a secret.”

“Good,” said Samar. “I suppose that's also why you forgot to send me that email last night.”

Liz couldn't help but smile, though it was sheepish. “Yeah.”

“Then I suppose I should congratulate you both,” said Samar, her expression softening. “Just try not to have your heads in the clouds too much while we may be fighting a war.”

Ressler cleared his throat. “We're figuring it out.”

“Of course that's your business,” she said. “That's all I was planning to say about it.”

“Okay,” said Liz. She couldn't think of another way to end this conversation, though she wanted it to be over.

“Anyway, one of my contacts is supposed to get back to me soon about one of the names on the list you gave Whitney,” Samar said, returning to their original topic of conversation as if there had been no deviation.

And that was that. Liz decided she was relieved that the two people she and Ressler had assumed would find out about their relationship right away had done so now. There was no more need to wonder about how it would go. Well, almost no more need. Probably.

~~~~~~

It turned out she was only partly right. Red came into the Post Office just a half hour before the work day was over. His stated goal was to talk to Liz. Which was good, because Liz wanted to hear what he thought of her conversation with Cooper – although she and Ressler would listen to his news first, of course.

“I believe the intel your Ms. Lam gathered will be instrumental in pointing us toward the next name on the Blacklist,” said Red. “That specific corporation she found, the one with very long-standing ties to Connolly? We'll be going after its owner. The one on the most up-to-date paperwork, that is.”

Liz took that in. “Who is it?”

“A man named George Patil,” he said. He gave her and Ressler a few details that would be necessary in order for them to start the process of going after him.

“I get the impression you have something to report, as well, Lizzie,” said Red, after this.

She nodded. “Another conversation with Cooper.” For the third time, she gave a quick recap of the event, and then added silently, to him only, _I told Ressler and Samar, obviously, although they still don't know about Cooper's relationship to Connolly._ “Does this mean he's noticed what we're doing?”

“I doubt it,” said Red. “The first I intend for him to notice is when George Patil is taken down by the FBI. I would guess that this call to Cooper is simply part of his original plan of attack.” _It may have been motivated by frustration that Cooper hasn't been providing intel to him._ This last comment, Liz knew, was directed only at her.

It wasn't long after this that Red asked to speak to Ressler, alone. He didn't say it in a particularly threatening way, but she had no doubt of his desired topic. Still. She contented herself with making it clear that she wouldn't be far. Ressler didn't need her to be overprotective, even if she almost wanted to just drag him out of there so they could both leave.

And there was no violence or bloodshed. Ressler told her when Red had left that her father had been restrained and almost pleasant. She didn't demand to hear everything. If Ressler was able to seem genuinely fine with how it went, she would count that a reason to truly stop worrying.


	8. Chapter 8

~~  
November (two months after the Czech Republic)

Ressler's head was spinning as they drove back to the apartment. The last war of Reddington's that the Task Force had gotten involved in had been destructive enough, with Meera's murder, Cooper ending up in the hospital, and the first mess with Tom. But now that Liz was a fully participating member of dragon society, things could be so much worse this time. All of the ways he could imagine for this one to be worse threatened to make it impossible for him to breathe normally, in fact.

Finally, he decided he had to air some of his concerns with Liz. When he asked what her plans were for herself and her organization in the event that Connolly moved to shut down the Task Force, though, her response was not encouraging. It sounded almost like she hadn't thought about it – which didn't make sense.

He looked over at her in the passenger's seat. “You don't know. Why not?”

“Because I don't want to think about it, okay?” she said, her voice rising as she suddenly glared at him. She told him she had never succeeded in thinking beyond the fact that she couldn't just go on the run with Reddington, leaving both of her lieutenants behind. Then she looked away and sighed. “When I get to that point, my mind just kind of blanks out and I have to think about something else.”

Ressler's heart sank. If that was really where she thought this would have to go... “You're just taking for granted that-- that the end of the Task Force would mean the end of your FBI career, and the end of you even trying to live a normal life?”

Liz narrowed her eyes. “You mean a human life.”

He all but ground his teeth in frustration. That was not what he had meant, and she knew it. He ignored her attempt to sidetrack this and insisted she answer his actual question.

She was quiet for a little while, and then she told him she did take it for granted that the FBI would at the very least have her detained if they learned she was Reddington's daughter. "No one will believe I didn't already know, and everyone who already thinks I'm his accomplice will be sure of it.”

They had arrived at the apartment by that point. He turned off the car, but made no move to get out. They needed to finish this conversation, even though he was beginning to see why she hadn't gotten very far in her contingency planning.

She went on to point out that even though she wasn't Reddington's accomplice, there were enough ties between his organization and hers that someone looking for a reason to convict her could probably find one. “So my 'normal' life would be over, no matter what I did,” she finished in a defeated tone.

Ressler tried to find a way to counter any of her arguments, but she had clearly thought out this much of the situation in detail. Hence why she hadn't gotten past this point. And there was just about nothing he could blame or criticize her for, in any of the choices she had made since she had discovered her draconic heritage. “I get it,” he told her, finally. “I can't argue with you. And I can't say I blame you for wanting to avoid going to prison for the crime of, what, taking the opportunity to get to know your father?”

Liz was close to tears now. She told Ressler in as steady of a voice as she could manage that she'd be happy to hear it if he was able to come up with a better solution. That was when she had to stop and try to breathe, before she told him she refused to go on the run if it meant leaving him and Samar at risk from the dragons that would try to take over her and Reddington's territories if the two of them left. “I don't want to never see you again,” she said in a choked voice, only succeeding in meeting his eyes part of the time, “but I don't want to force you to go on the run with me. That's why I haven't made any decision about what I would do.”

Ressler felt his own eyes sting, and he blinked back tears quickly. “We'll figure it out, Liz,” he promised her through a throat constricted with emotion. Maybe it made him a selfish asshole, but he couldn't help being just a little bit glad that she refused so utterly to do anything that would mean she never saw him again. Well, him and Samar, she'd said. Still.

Liz reached to cover his hand with hers, where he had rested it on her arm, smiled, and said she would hold him to that promise. Ressler in turn assured her that he meant it, as they both got out of the car.

They were on the way into the building when Liz asked, in a very casual tone, if he might be interested in hanging out and having a drink with her in her freshly-cleaned apartment. Ressler was pretty sure this wasn't a normal invite to spend a few hours with his partner outside of work, but that didn't mean he had any problems accepting. He just needed to change out of his work clothes first.

But when Ressler got to his apartment, he had a bizarre moment of panic. If this evening had the potential to be anything other than a nice, normal few hours with Liz, then it could end up being – well, pretty important. And if that was the case, then maybe he needed to put some effort into his appearance. He stood in front of his closet for a full minute. Then he laughed at himself and picked out a shirt almost at random. He was definitely overthinking this. This wasn't a first date. No matter what happened the rest of the evening, Liz wouldn't care what he wore. And, he told himself firmly, all he was going to do once he was dressed was go next door, and spend time with his friend.

The threat of war, fears about the future, and even the emotionally charged conversation he and Liz had had in the car all seemed much less stressful after they watched a sci-fi movie and unwound with the aid of some quality alcohol. Ressler set down his empty bottle on the coffee table and leaned back further into the couch.

The credits were just starting to roll when Liz turned down the volume and turned toward him. Her expression was open and unguarded. “If I ever did leave,” she said, “if that was what we all decided was the best choice … what would you want to do? I didn't ask.”

He ran a hand through his hair. They hadn't totally finished that conversation yet, had they? He cracked a little joke about how she was making him decide before she did, but he also was considering his response. Honestly, he found it hard to imagine a career other than working for the Bureau, and he told her so. Especially if the context of his leaving the Bureau was to accompany Liz on something so totally undefined as it would have to be if they were forced to go on the run. At the same time, it wasn't like he hadn't thought about the possible outcomes when he first agreed to joined her organization. He had still agreed, and he still didn't regret having done so. “I knew what it could mean when I pledged my loyalty to you,” he said, and then waited in some suspense to see how she would react.

Now she looked like she was going to cry again. But she bit her lip as a few tears escaped, and took his hand in hers. She thanked him, and admitted that though she felt guilty for thinking it, she was glad he had seen her in the warehouse before the drug wore off.

Ressler could still remember the shock of that moment clearly – and he could look back and see how the trajectory of his life had changed since then. Most of that change involved him becoming closer to Liz, which by far outweighed anything negative that had also resulted. So he told her there was no need to apologize.

She still didn't believe him. Her expression as well as her words told him that. He needed to figure out a way to convince her it was true. Meanwhile, she was so close to him on the couch that he could see every detail of her face, including the shine of tears still ready to fall from her eyes, and a lock of hair that he reached to push behind her ear. “Of course it's been crazy,” he acknowledged, “and there have been a few times I almost wished I'd let you give me that _Matrix_ blue pill treatment. But if I could go back and do it again, I'm pretty sure I'd make the same choices.”

Liz wasn't pulling away. In fact, her doubt and guilt seemed to fade, and she reached her hand out to touch his face. Ressler's heart started to pound so loudly that he almost missed her teasing response to his declaration. “I'd rather you give your past self some advice about avoiding David Kent's men, at least.”

Laughing, he admitted he wouldn't mind not getting his ass kicked. Then, slowly, giving her the chance to pull back if she wanted, he drew closer to her until he could kiss her on her lips.

To his immense relief and pleasure, she deepened the kiss immediately and moved so that more of her was in contact with more of him. This was good. This was... He stopped thinking, until they both had to break apart just to breathe.

The sight of Liz right in front of him, her face flushed, and the feel of her hands in his hair were almost enough to make him go right back to kissing her. But she ran one of her hands over his face and asked him in a panting whisper, “Ressler. Are you sure you want this?”

Did she really doubt it? Ressler felt a wide smile stretch across his face as he told her, “Liz, I've wanted this for a long time.” Long enough, in fact, that part of him wasn't sure it was really happening. Maybe all of this was just a really good, really realistic dream.

“Me, too,” she said, and his heart leaped. Still staring at him as if to memorize his features, she went on, “I just-- I thought – because we work together in two totally different ways, and I don't know what's going to happen--”

“I know,” he said, gently interrupting the flow of words. He knew the possible issues, at least as well as she did and maybe better in some ways. “But shouldn't we be happy right now, even if it's going to get complicated?”

At that, she leaned in and kissed him some more, murmuring that he was very persuasive. That made him smile against her lips, and he shifted her so she could be even closer to him. “I'm just glad I'm not trying to persuade you of anything you don't already want,” he said. “I have a feeling that might take a little more effort.” He thought back very briefly to how depressed he had felt when he thought she and Terrance had been more than friends. Thank God he'd been wrong.

Liz gave him a look and remarked in a would-be severe tone that it sounded like he was trying to call her easy. Ressler lost no time in telling her that he would never use that word in association with her, no matter what definition was being considered. She smiled again, and they resumed their previous occupation.

When Liz suggested some time later that they might take this activity somewhere more comfortable, it took Ressler a few seconds to realize she hadn't actually spoken out loud – and then he had to try to summon up enough mental focus so she would know he agreed wholeheartedly with that suggestion. But he had no intention of interrupting what they were doing right now, even for a few seconds, so he made sure his grip on her was tight enough before he got to his feet with her wrapped around him. She tightened her hold on him in response, but didn't protest. Thankfully, he managed to maneuver himself and her into her bedroom without running into anything. Then he shut the door, and didn't spare any further thoughts for anything else but Liz.

~  
The morning after was less leisurely than he could have wished, since it was a workday. But it was also pleasantly free of any real awkwardness between the two of them. In fact, Ressler's main impression that he took away was how good it felt to wake up with Liz in his arms, to have the privilege of seeing her when she first woke up and the right to kiss her if they felt like it. Even figuring out the little domestic things like him going back to his apartment to get ready instead of sticking around didn't bother him. And crucially, they didn't seem to bother Liz, either.

Once he was ready for work, Ressler knocked on her door. She opened it almost immediately. “You have a key, you know,” she pointed out, running a brush through her hair as she walked further into the apartment.

The number of times he'd used his spare key before now was very small – but that had the potential to change a lot in the near future. “You ready?” he asked, to try to keep himself from thinking too far ahead to things like when they might decide not to deal with two separate apartments.

She said she would just be a few more minutes. Before she could walk away, Ressler caught her hand. “Hey. Are we telling anyone about this? Us?” He would follow her lead, of course, but he hoped they were on the same page.

Her expression softened a little. “I'm not planning to keep it a secret, but I'd rather not make an official announcement or anything. It's our business.”

“Yeah,” he said in relief. That was pretty much what he had thought. He preferred to keep it low-key for a while at least, if possible.

When Liz came back out, she brought up the fact that both Samar and Reddington tended to notice things – especially Reddington, who was alarmingly good at reading people. There wasn't much hope that those two, at least, wouldn't notice the change in his and Liz's relationship pretty soon. Ressler didn't have much of a problem with Samar knowing, but the idea of a conversation with Reddington on this topic was not a pleasant one.

The workday wasn't too stressful. Reddington wasn't there, which wasn't a problem for Ressler at all. Delaying that moment wasn't going to make it less uncomfortable when it happened, but still.

After work, Liz, Samar, and he went to see Whitney to hear what she had dug up on Tom Connolly. There wasn't a whole lot yet, but it was a good start. The most interesting thing Whitney had found so far was evidence that 'Thomas Connolly' was an alias – that the dragon had been around much longer than this name. This reminder that dragons were practically if not literally immortal was not a cheering one, but useful to consider in this case. The other important outcome of this meeting was Samar beginning to plan a move into Liz's territory, as a precautionary measure.

When Liz got back that night after talking with Reddington about this, she was clearly upset. He could see that as soon as she walked into his apartment. It didn't surprise Ressler to hear that her father knew about them and had referenced their relationship in a way guaranteed to irritate. But Liz reacted to this meeting with Reddington by worrying, again, that she was somehow making Ressler's life extra difficult. And then when he told her again that she didn't have to worry on that topic at all, she confessed that there was more that was weighing on her than just that. She was starting to think more of the broader implications of them being together, and mixed in with everything else going on in their lives, it was more than enough to be overwhelming. Hell, if Ressler let himself dwell on that for very long, he knew he'd start to feel the same way. But he refused to let any anxieties about the future ruin what they had now. He knew it would be a continual process to reassure Liz – and himself – of this, but he was willing to put in the effort.

When Reddington showed up at the Post Office the next day, Ressler had a ridiculous moment when he wanted to duck out, to be anywhere but there. But the moment passed quickly. He and Liz were adults, and they could make their own decisions. He wasn't ashamed of the fact that he was in love with her. Besides, Reddington already knew Ressler was going to be in Liz's life for as long as possible, and he had even approved of that fact.

The first item of business, though, was for Reddington to tell them what his sources had discovered about Connolly, and for him to hear an update on what Cooper had told Liz. But once that was complete, Reddington focused his gaze on Ressler. “Donald,” he said, “I'd like a word with you before I leave.”

“Red,” said Liz warningly. She crossed her arms. “If this is what I think it is...”

“Don't worry,” said the man with one of his deceptive smiles, “this isn't going to take long, and I'll return him to you in the same condition he's in now.”

“I'll be waiting,” she said. To Ressler, she said, _Well, I guess it's better for us all to get this over with quickly._ Then her voice took on a drier note as she added, _And I'll be close by in case you need help._

As he followed Reddington out of the office, Ressler gave her a look over his shoulder. He was pretty sure she'd gotten his sarcastic thanks.

Reddington walked to a more deserted corner of the building. Ressler stopped when he stopped, and waited. At least Dembe wasn't with them right now, he thought in vague amusement. He was sure the man knew what was going on, but he was elsewhere.

Reddington just regarded Ressler silently for several seconds at first, his head tilted. Then he said, “We know each other reasonably well by now, Donald, and I've grown fond enough of you that I'd be sorry if you weren't around. That said, you also know how much importance I place in Elizabeth's happiness and well-being.”

There wasn't a lot he could think to say in response to that, so Ressler just nodded.

“I'm not going to sink to the level of making any sort of cliché threats, since you don't need to hear them,” Liz's father continued. “I'll merely reiterate that I want Lizzie to be happy, and since you make her happy, I'm not going to object in any way to you being with her. I don't foresee myself regretting this decision. I hope I never do.”

“I understand,” said Ressler.

Reddington smiled, and this time it was more sincere. “Good. Then I'll let you get back to work, after you reassure Lizzie that I didn't threaten you with bodily harm.” He clapped Ressler on the arm as he passed by. “Or act on any of those threats.”

“Yeah, because that's really big of you,” Ressler said.

Reddington laughed as he continued down the hall.

When Ressler got back to his and Liz's office, she was sitting at her desk, but she stood up as soon as he came in. “So how did it go?”

“Surprisingly well,” Ressler told her, letting out a breath. “He was almost pleasant about it. Just wanted me to know that he wants you to be happy.” There was an obvious implied threat there, but since Ressler was planning to make it one of his life goals to make her happy, he didn't see that this threat would ever become a problem.

Liz raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, that's … nice, I guess.”

“Not a word I'd usually use to describe interactions with Raymond Reddington, but yeah.”

~


	9. Chapter 9

The takedown of Patil went smoothly. He seemed shocked to be found, as if he hadn't imagined that possibility. He came willingly enough when Samar and Ressler got to him (Red had suggested that a dragon should not be the one to take him down – he'd said one blatant act of provocation at a time was enough). However, once Patil was back at the Post Office, he wouldn't talk. And this was a problem, because they needed him to give up Connolly sooner rather than later, before Connolly himself was informed of what had happened.

It wasn't until Patil actually told Samar, who was currently interrogating him for the names of all his clients, that he wanted to help but wasn't able to, that Liz had a realization. She came into the room from where she had been watching. “Mr. Patil, you said you aren't able to help. You know we can't help you unless you help us first. So what if we provided a computer for you and had you type or bring up a list of clients? Would you be able to do that?”

His eyes widened, and he swallowed. “I think I could.”

He was escorted to a console, with several agents including Aram watching him closely. Liz saw that it still seemed to be costing him some effort as his hands went to the keyboard and mouse, which confirmed her suspicions that he had been forbidden by a dragon (Connolly, presumably) to tell anyone his clients. But he did seem to be able to do it, so perhaps the order had been too specifically geared toward one method of communication.

Patil didn't exactly type up a list, but with Aram's supervision and occasional help, he was able to remotely access the information after several minutes. “Here,” he said, again looking more tired than just the activity would warrant. “And you'll protect me, right?”

“We will,” said Liz, although she would need to check with Cooper to solidify anything. If nothing else, Red could probably help him disappear. That might end up being the man's best option. “Aram, can you make sure we back up that information?”

“It's encoded,” Patil put in. “I can, uh, give you the key.”

“Do it,” she said. If Red was right, Thomas Connolly's name would be prominently featured. Naturally, no one there would give any sign of how immediately they would recognize it, but Cooper would have some thinking to do. It was a gamble, and of course it wasn't without its dangers to all of them. As Red had explained it, however, if Cooper voluntarily broke away from Connolly, and they were there to watch and do their best to prevent any retaliation, that would be as many as three major blows to Connolly in quick succession: he would lose one of his oldest and biggest ways to launder his ill-gotten gains, and his main source of information and support about Reddington. Plus, no matter how many friends he might have, such a scandal would seriously jeopardize his chances of being made Attorney General.

When Cooper asked to see Liz in his office again the day after they'd closed the Patil case, then, she expected the discussion might be serious. “I've had another strange phone call from my friend at the DOJ. I might as well tell you now that it's Tom Connolly.”

Liz blinked. “I recognize that name. Wait, wasn't that one of the people on George Patil's list of clients?”

He didn't look very convinced by her air of surprise. “I suspect you already knew more a lot more about that list than I did when we started to move on Patil, Agent Keen. I'll get to that later, though.” An expression like resignation settled on his face. “Connolly called specifically to tell me something that I'm sure he expected would result in the immediate end of this task force.”

Trying hard to breathe normally despite the sensation of being plunged into ice water, Liz cleared her throat. “What?”

She could already read what he was going to say before he said the words. “Agent Keen, he told me that Raymond Reddington is your father.”

It turned out that every moment she had spent trying to imagine this had been completely ineffective at preparing her. Her lungs felt like there wasn't enough air, and she knew there were tears in her eyes. Cooper waited silently for the seeming eternity it took her to catch her breath. There was no point in trying to deny his statement. “And what are you going to do now, sir?” Her voice was unsteady, but at least it was clear. Her mind was beginning to clear, too. She knew her options now, though none of them were good. “You haven't had me detained yet.”

He sighed. “I'm sure that was part of Connolly's intentions, too. But I find I can't do that. If I thought you had been colluding with a known traitor and criminal since we started this work – if I had never felt able to trust you, after years of working with you – I would make that call. And of course you should have told me as soon as you knew the truth. But it's not hard for me to understand why you didn't.”

Liz didn't think she could handle the compassion in his voice and thoughts, combined with her own tension, very much longer. She wiped the tears from her cheeks as soon as they fell.

Before she could press him for a verdict, her boss went on, “That said, it is clear, no matter how you or I might feel about it, that the Task Force can't continue on like we have been working.”

She swallowed. “Yes, sir.” At least her nonprofit could continue without her if she disappeared. The work was too important for it to end suddenly. She had made certain she wasn't vital to its continuing operation. There was still so much she didn't want to leave, though.

“If we're still going to do this work, I need to know everything. I need to know whatever it is, exactly, that has been going on outside these walls, with you, Reddington, Ressler, and Samar – and Aram, if he's involved, too.”

Liz stared at her boss. It took her a minute to realize the full import of what he had said: if they were going to continue, he was demanding to be brought in. She took a deep breath. Briefly, she wished Red was here – and then she dismissed the thought. She could handle this just fine without him. For Cooper, she would do this. “Sir, I understand. Thank you, for giving me a chance. I know I haven't made it easy for you recently.” She sniffed. “But you need to know that if we tell you everything, the threat I told you about will be even greater, and a lot more focused on you than it would have been. And you may not like the kinds of protection you would need.” 

His eyes widened and he sat back. “The threat to me will be greater? Greater than it is now as the Assistant Director, in charge of this unit that just pointed a finger at one of the highest-ranking people in the Department of Justice?”

“Yes, sir,” she repeated, meeting his eyes squarely. Then, just because it was absolutely going to be necessary at some point, Liz cast out her mental awareness to see if she could find Red. He wasn't really close enough to talk, but she could tell when he noticed she was looking for him. And she made sure he knew it was urgent.

Eventually, Cooper shook his head and spoke again. “All right. You obviously know whatever this situation is better than I do. I can't pretend otherwise. Still, I think I need to understand. There's too much happening here that I've been kept out of, and at this point, I won't be able to keep doing my job without being aware of it.”

 _What is it, Lizzie?_ came Red's voice, evidently close enough now.

Liz thought quickly and took out her phone. “Red,” she explained, pretending to read a text. _We're going to have to bring Cooper in. Or the Task Force shuts down._ To give herself enough time, she composed a nonsense message to no one as she continued to speak to him. _Connolly told him that you're my father._

“What are you telling him?”

“That we need to meet,” she said. “Probably all of us together, if you're okay with that.” She repeated the last part silently.

“As long as this meeting won't be an ambush,” was his response.

Liz frowned. Obviously, she couldn't and didn't blame him for thinking that, but it still hurt. “No, sir. That won't happen.”

Red chose that moment to reply, mental voice tense. _Lizzie, I'll be there in forty-five minutes._

 _Well, I'm not just keeping Cooper in total limbo until then. I'm going to suggest we meet in that same park as before, unless you give me a good reason not to._ Liz was starting to worry she was going to forget which form of communication to use with which person. That would not help the situation.

Meanwhile, Cooper said, “If I have your word on that, then I'll be there. Just tell me where and when.”

“You have my word,” said Liz. Red hadn't objected, so she suggested the same park where Samar had first been brought in. “Can you make it right after work is over?” That should give Red enough time, she thought.

Once that was settled, Liz went downstairs in a daze. She still hardly believed that this had happened. And she had no idea how she was possibly supposed to focus on anything like the paperwork she had been doing now. Would Cooper join Red's organization? Or hers? She couldn't be his employee in one situation and his boss – even in name only – in another, could she? That would just be... she stopped that train of thought with a bitter half laugh. What would make her think there could even exist a situation too insane to be possible?

“Liz, what's wrong?”

She realized she was standing in the doorway of their office, staring toward Ressler without really looking at him. “Um.” Trying to gather her thoughts, she came in and sat down at her desk, her head in her hands. “I just – uh, Cooper told me...” she trailed off and cleared her throat. “You know what? I think I've cried enough at work today already. I'd rather wait until nobody else is watching me.”

“Okay, but you're freaking me out now,” said Ressler. When she looked up, she saw the worry in his eyes. “Can you give me something, just so I have an idea?”

He was right. It was unfair of her just to come back, obviously shaken, and not tell him anything. She gazed back down at the desk. She was going to have to be able to deal with this, however it turned out. “Yeah.” Then she straightened. “I probably should tell Samar, too, just so we're all on the same page.” _Samar, do you have a minute? Something important just happened. I need to tell you and Ressler._

“What's going on?” Samar came in quickly.

As matter-of-factly as possible, she told them telepathically about Cooper's announcement and his request to be brought in. She recounted the whole thing without breaking down again, although she had to look down several times through the process. It was only when she was done that she looked for their reactions. They were both clearly stunned.

“So, what are our options?” Samar said in a low voice, crossing her arms. “You make it sound like Cooper won't call for us to be shut down if we tell him everything. How will that work out, exactly?”

Liz shrugged. _It won't be easy, however it goes. I can't imagine Cooper feeling good about his options – which I guess are basically the same ones I gave you._ She rubbed her hands across her face. _I wouldn't blame him, after all this, if he decides it would be better to shut us down. Maybe it is better._

“Let's see how it goes tonight, first,” said Ressler, giving her a sharp look.

She nodded, though without much enthusiasm. Her instincts for self-preservation were still telling her that, with her secret revealed, this had to be over. It was frightening how much easier it was to imagine running away from this, now that the critical moment could be at hand. Still, she owed it to Ressler and Samar to not totally flip out. He was right. She could – and should – wait to see how the evening's meeting went instead of making a rash choice with enormous implications for all of them.

“No matter what he decides,” said Samar, still quiet, “there will be a fundamental shift here. There must be.”

Liz nodded again. Some of the overwhelming tension left her body, and she was suddenly exhausted, instead. She put her head in her hands again, then sat up abruptly a second later. There was something else she had to tell them. “Yeah, that's even truer than you know, Samar.” _As far as Red and I can tell, right now Cooper is technically in Connolly's organization, although he doesn't know hardly anything about what that means. So he'll probably have to formally renounce Connolly tonight before... deciding what else he's going to do._

“Why the hell are you just telling us now?” Ressler said, keeping his voice low with obvious effort.

She lifted her chin and met his gaze, and then Samar's in turn. “I was protecting you.” _Keeping Connolly's focus off you by not giving you more knowledge than you needed._ Ressler scoffed, but before he could say anything, she went on, _And we were protecting Cooper by trying to keep things as normal as possible at the Post Office. Connolly wanted him to be an informant, so we didn't want there to be any sign we knew the threat was coming._

Ressler was still unconvinced. He clenched his jaw. “And you didn't think we could act normally while knowing big secrets?”

“I didn't want you to have to. Not when the secret didn't directly affect you,” she hissed. It wasn't about her trusting or not trusting them, and she was annoyed at any implication otherwise.

“Fine,” Samar cut in. “The time for that secret is over now, anyway. Is there anything else we should know?”

“Not that I can think of,” Liz said, her irritation at Ressler draining away as fast as it had come. She wondered what it would be like to have a life where she didn't need to keep things from the people she cared about. The prospect of her whole life – her whole, very long life – being made up of endless scenes like this one stretched in front of her. And it was easier than ever to see why Red kept such an extremely short list of people he truly cared about.

“Well then, I'll be ready to leave in about an hour? And I'll hope for the best outcome. Whatever that may be.” Liz didn't think she had really succeeded in the smile of acknowledgement that she wanted to give at that, but Samar nodded anyway and left the office.

“I'm sorry, Liz,” said Ressler, in the silence that fell afterward.

“For what?”

“You didn't need me bitching at you after the kind of day you've already been having.”

“No, Ressler, you have the right to be mad,” she said. A headache was starting to build just behind her left eye. She massaged her temple and huffed out a breath. “Ugh, better and better,” she muttered, rummaging in her desk drawer for the Tylenol she kept there.

“Headache?” Ressler asked, sympathetic.

“Yeah.” She found the pill bottle and shook out two. “Not that there's any stress that might be the cause, or anything.”

Ressler rolled his eyes. “Definitely not. You want me to get you a bottle of water to take those?”

“Would you?” Liz said gratefully. “I think I'd like to stay sitting until this goes away.”

“No problem.” He put his hand on her shoulder as he walked by.

~~~~~~

Liz, Ressler, and Samar decided to travel to the park together. Now that Samar had moved into Liz's territory, carpooling made more sense, anyway. Red and Dembe were already there when they arrived. “Lizzie. I'm told Harold is on his way.”

Of course he would have someone watching him. She checked her watch. Cooper wasn't late yet. “He said he'd be here.”

“I'm sorry if you were caught off guard by this, Lizzie,” said Red, his expression serious.

“I wasn't, really,” she told him. “It was a logical next move for Connolly. But in the end, even though I knew what Cooper was about to say before he said it, that didn't help much.”

Red gave her a small, sad smile. “Some things can't be prepared for.”

“Are you going to offer Cooper the same choice you offered me?” Samar asked. She glanced around the park, but in the early evening on a day when it had been raining on and off, there weren't many people there.

“After a fashion,” said Red simply.

“And the same show?” Samar said, her eyebrows raised.

Red chuckled. “Perhaps. Although it doesn't look like there's a dog for Elizabeth to terrify into submission first, more's the pity.”

Liz would have glared at him, but she was too close to smiling. “I didn't even do anything!”

“Of course not,” said Red. “You didn't have to.”

Cooper drove up before Liz could try to argue further. Any trace of amusement faded immediately as he got out of the car and approached them. He looked at each of them. “Does this mean Aram doesn't know?”

“All Aram knows is that there is something to know,” Samar said. “I think I've convinced him that he's better off staying that way.”

“That's very true,” Red put in. “And I would say the same of you, except we're not starting from zero with you, are we, Harold?”

Her boss sighed. “If I'm going to tell you what I already know, can we at least sit down first?” Once they had moved to the benches, he took a moment, and then spoke again. “I take it everyone here is aware of my connection to Tom Connolly?” At their confirmation, he went on. “Well, apart from the friendship I thought we had, what I know is mostly rumors that there's more to him than meets the eye. And he specifically told me that if I agreed, his name could serve as protection from certain people – people like Reddington.”

“And you did agree,” Red said, with a nod.

“At the time, I thought it sounded like a good idea, although even then I think I realized that I was getting myself into something beyond what I really understood,” Cooper said.

“I have to admire Connolly's bending of the rules,” Red remarked. “They were never meant to be used in the way he chooses to use them, but it is a clever idea.”

“What rules?” Cooper asked. “And what idea, exactly?”

Red glanced at Liz. “If you'd prefer to do it this time, Lizzie, I believe I could make sure it's safe.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You think so, or you know so?”

He smiled. “It's true that we haven't practiced.”

She made a 'go-ahead' gesture. “Then don't drag it out.”

“We'll have to set aside some time to practice, though,” Red said, standing up and removing his hat. “It's far too useful of a skill not to make sure we've gotten the most out of it.” Then he went over to the same place he had gone before and transformed.

Liz heard Cooper swear, and she saw the shock on his face. He blinked, and shook his head, and then brought a shaking hand to his mouth. Whatever he had thought about Connolly's true nature, it had evidently not been anything like this.

Red, thankfully, didn't take much time before transforming back and rejoining them. “Are you all right, Harold?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

Cooper cleared his throat. His face was still pale, but his shock was already fading. “Other than not being able to believe what I just saw, I'm fine.” He took a deep breath, and then stared frankly between Red and Liz. “This is what Connolly meant when he referred to people like you?”

“It is,” said Red. “And you must have guessed now that Tom Connolly is a dragon, too. However, his method of protecting you isn't meant to be used in a purely human context, for human politics.”

Cooper's eyebrows rose again. “Human politics, as opposed to... dragon politics?”

“Exactly. Which is why you'll need to decide before this meeting is over whether you intend to continue under your current arrangement or dissolve it and enter into a new one.” Red sat back.

“I'm going to need more information before I decide anything,” Cooper turned to Ressler and Samar. “Am I to take it that you two have some kind of arrangement with – it must be with Agent Keen, isn't it?”

“We do,” said Ressler. “For situations involving dragon society.”

“And how does that work, exactly?”

“I'll tell you the part that is most immediately relevant to you. We dragons keep our existence a secret, which won't surprise you,” Red cut in. “The only humans who are allowed to know are those who have joined a particular dragon's organization. That was probably the majority of what Connolly meant when he said he would protect you from people like me: your knowledge of him, limited as it was, would not require another dragon's intervention in order to ensure our safety, because of your arrangement with him.”

“Wait. What kind of intervention are you talking about?” Cooper's eyes narrowed.

“There are a variety of measures that could be taken,” Red answered calmly. “I can even offer you the chance to forget all of this, including the fact of Elizabeth's relationship to me. However, I doubt Connolly would take kindly to that kind of interference. He would simply undo it at his earliest convenience.”

The conversation proceeded roughly as Liz had imagined, from there. The main difference from how this had gone for Samar is that Red didn't take long to come back to the question of whether Cooper wanted to continue in his old relationship with Tom Connolly, or dissolve it.

“It's convenient for you that I have to decide this right after learning that my friend has been laundering millions of dollars of unknown origin through Patil's corporation,” Cooper pointed out.

“It is, isn't it?” Red said.

Just as Cooper started to reply, a resigned look on his face, Liz sat up straight and met Red's equally startled gaze. “Who is that? Red, is it Connolly?”

“It's been a few years since I've had the pleasure,” Red said, and she could see the tension in him, “but yes. Interesting.”

“Wait, Connolly's coming here? Right now?” Ressler's hand moved toward his holster.

“How could you know that?” Cooper asked. “What do you see?”

“We haven't seen anything yet,” said Liz. She concentrated. “He's not coming with a lot of people. He's not trying to hide. So he must not be launching any kind of attack.”

“No, that's not his style,” said Red. “Harold, I do believe your dragon friend doesn't want to lose you. How touching.”

That was when the black SUV showed up and parked next to the other vehicles. Two men, obviously bodyguards, stepped out first. They were followed by the man with white hair that Liz recognized from their earlier case, who walked toward them with a faint smile on his face.

“How nice of you to join us, Tom,” said Red, as soon as he was close enough. “We were having such an interesting conversation with Harold. Most of it was quite new to him, wasn't it, Harold?”

The other dragon raised his eyebrows, then nodded. His voice when he spoke was sneering. “This is your response to my bombshell of last night, then, Reddington? I was giving you the chance to leave – after all, you did save my life once. But now you think if you poach one of my people, your cozy arrangement with the FBI will continue, despite the fact that your own bastard daughter is playing both sides?”

Liz flushed, and heard Ressler's furious mental response to that almost as clearly as if he'd been a telepath. But she put a hand on his arm. _We're not making the first move here, no matter what he tries._

Red continued to speak as if this were a common, everyday meeting, though his smile was dangerous. “You were the one who decided it was time for secrets to come out. I simply judged that if Harold was to know that particular fact, it might also be beneficial for him to know what else you've been keeping from him.”

“Why are you here, Tom?” Cooper said, voice cold.

“To keep you from making a mistake, my friend,” said Connolly, in a would-be affable tone that made the hairs on the back of Liz's neck stand on end. “If you join the organization of Raymond Reddington, or any of his ilk, not only will you become my enemy, but you'll gain the negative attention of a lot of people who would otherwise not have bothered you.”

“I'm familiar with having enemies,” said Cooper. “It comes with my line of work. I'm not worried about any extra danger to my life.” There was an undercurrent of defiance there that surprised Liz – not that she hadn't already known that Harold Cooper was a brave man. But there was something else, something she felt like she was missing.

Connolly paused for a second. “You're actually considering it. Harold, you know what I've asked of you since we started working together – hardly anything. Just a few small favors now and then. If you work with criminals, you'll be asked to do a lot worse.”

“As it turns out, I was already working with a criminal,” Cooper said. “I don't know who it is that I've been friends with for all these years, but I guess it wasn't really you.”

Connolly pressed his lips together.

Red spoke again. “I should tell you, Tom, while we're face-to-face, that if my opening salvo wasn't enough to convince you to back down, it was just the smallest taste of what I can and will bring down on you. You've lived so long outside of your own people that you may have forgotten how many more avenues of attack are open to me than to you.”

“Talk is cheap,” Connolly snapped.

“Tell me, how much is Patil going out of business costing you, again?”

Connolly reddened.

“Feel free to tell me how easily you can absorb the cost,” Red said. “As if I need more motivation to make sure my next strike really hurts. Or you can tell me it was enough, and that you're done.”

“I can still take down your pet task force with one word to the right people,” Connolly said.

“You can try,” Cooper put in. “But my suggestion would be to focus on your own problems, Tom. I could arrest you right now based on the evidence we retrieved after Patil's arrest. You're a wanted man. Whether or not there's enough to convict you, anything you might have to say against the team of agents who took you down would be very suspect.”

Connolly swallowed. “I won't be convicted.”

“Perhaps not for your connections to Patil,” Red agreed.

“And you won't arrest me, Harold,” said the man.

“You're right. I won't. I did once think of you as a friend, and there's still enough going on here that I need to understand better before I act against you,” said Cooper. “However, if you do make any move on my people, I make no such promise. And you can consider this your notification that the ties I had to you are cut. I don't want your protection.”

“Whose protection are you taking, instead?”

“I don't see how that's any of your business,” Cooper said. “Goodbye, Tom.”

The man turned toward the rest of them. “Your task force is living on borrowed time, even if I'm not the one to take it down.”

“I won't speak for the rest of us,” Ressler said, “but if we can take out some more of the trash before it ends, it'll still be worth it for me.” The way he was glaring at Connolly made it obvious that he included him in that group.

“I guess you don't mind working with trash,” Connolly said, and his eyes rested on Liz this time.

Liz gritted her teeth. “Mr. Connolly, no one else here besides Cooper made any promise not to arrest you.”

“And I have promised quite the contrary,” Red said. Even his fake, would-be-pleasant smile was gone now. His eyes glittered. 

Connolly said nothing more. After another long moment, he turned and rejoined his bodyguards. _Even if I don't do anything, Harold, you'll regret tying yourself to Raymond Reddington or his mixed-blood whelp._ All this was said as he got into the car, without turning.

Cooper made a startled, half-choked off sound. Liz remembered with sympathy that he probably had never experienced telepathic communication before. But her boss didn't say anything until the SUV was gone. Then he turned to Red. “If I don't move on having Connolly arrested, can you tell me he won't be anymore of a threat? Because, unfortunately, I think he was right that he wouldn't be convicted on the strength of the evidence we have right now. He has a lot of powerful friends.”

“I can confidently tell you that, whether or not he's arrested, Tom Connolly will be in no position to cause any of us trouble by the this time tomorrow,” Red told him. Then he sat back and folded his hands. “Now. His crude language notwithstanding, Connolly's parting words were a reminder that you have a choice to make.”

“I know,” said Cooper. “It's a choice I would prefer to skip.” He sighed, and when he spoke again, it was directed at the bench where his three agents sat. “But, Liz, I still believe we're on the same side, though I'm learning that I have to redefine that side. So, if I agree to – join your organization? Is that what I'm doing now? Then how will that work?”

Liz swallowed, and nervously resisted the urge to touch her scar. “Well, I have no desire to be the one giving you orders. But I'm honored to accept you as a part of my organization, for whatever we decide that will mean.”

Red beamed. “Congratulations. Now, I have some loose ends to tie up with regards to our mutual enemy, but you all should talk. Perhaps Agents Ressler and Navabi would like to give Harold some tips about what to expect from now on.”

He and Dembe left, and Liz rubbed her face with her hands before meeting her boss's gaze. Her boss, who was now, in spite of the fact that neither of them really wanted this, also technically sort of her employee. Should she still call him 'sir' in this particular situation? Could she bring herself not to? “Look, I don't know how we're going to navigate this,” she said, sidestepping that issue for the time being. “Mostly, the two of us having agreed that we have this relationship should be enough. I don't even want it to come up at work, as much as possible.”

“Good,” said Cooper. “I can't imagine that functioning well.”

“But that's not enough protection for you,” Liz went on, feeling, if that were possible, even more of a sensation of dread at what she knew was coming to than she had for either Ressler or Samar. “If someone else like Connolly were to find out that – that you're aware of dragon society, that you're a part of it, and then decide that you shouldn't be...” Her head started to ache again, though it had only been a little over an hour since she had taken Tylenol for it. “Your word, that you're part of my organization, wouldn't stop them.”

“I see,” said Cooper. He didn't say anything more for at least a minute. “Agents, unless whatever extra protection we're talking about has to be taken care of immediately, I'd like to get home. It's getting late.”

“No, that's fine,” Liz told him. “I can't do it right now, anyway. It's, uh, going to take a little bit of setting up.”

He raised his eyebrows, but nodded, uneasy. “All right, then I'll see you all tomorrow.”

“Good night,” Liz said, and her friends echoed the sentiment.

She had no idea how long it was after Cooper had left before any of them spoke. It would be dark soon, she suddenly realized, and she was getting cold. But quite apart from any physical considerations, she was numb. There had simply been too much in one day. Everything was, once again, completely new and different, and not in a fun or exciting way. And her head hurt.

“Liz?” Ressler was saying quietly. “Let's go home. This park closes at dusk. And you haven't had anything to eat since lunch.”

“Neither have you,” she said dully. But she stood, and walked with both of them toward the car. On the way there she pictured Cooper driving home alone after this, and laughed painfully.

“What is it?” said Samar, giving her a worried glance.

“I was just thinking how impossible, insane, whatever word you want to use to describe it, this whole day was. And then I had to admit, Cooper's probably feeling worse than me right now.”

“Yeah,” Ressler sighed. “But it's definitely been a hell of a day for everyone. Reddington's probably the only one who's just plain happy with how it all turned out. Connolly is apparently defeated, although I have to admit I doubt it'll be that easy. And I could just see him thinking about what he can get out of the fact that you're now technically, kind of, running almost an entire unit of the FBI.”

Liz groaned. “God, this is not the kind of career advancement I imagined when I joined the Bureau.” It felt wrong – she had done nothing to earn this. Any of this.

There was silence in the car as they left the park behind. Liz's thoughts slowly drifted back to how she had felt immediately after talking to Cooper in his office. She couldn't help but think there was still some appeal to the idea of running away from all of this. But now she had yet another person under her responsibility who would no doubt be in even worse danger if she gave in to that desire.

She had to do something, though, even if it wasn't much. And she knew one thing that would help, even if it was a pathetically transparent way to gain back any feeling of control. “Ressler.” It might take some logistical figuring, she realized. “I'm going out.”

“Out where?”

She resisted the urge to snap at him for his tone, that sounded like he wanted to tell her not to. “Red's territory. I can drive there. You and Samar should get dinner.”

“What about you?” Samar asked.

“Don't worry, I'll be eating, too,” said Liz. Her hand tightened on the armrest of the seat. Now that she had decided what she wanted to do, the longer she was forced to wait before she could, the more she felt trapped. Her headache wasn't helping.

Ressler's eyes widened as he figured out what she meant. “It's getting late for that, isn't it?”

He was right. If she didn't get there soon, she wouldn't have much chance of being able to see, much less catch, any prey. “I guess I'll have to be quick.”

“We can drop you off now,” he offered. “Just tell me how to get there.”

Liz bit her lip. “But then you'd have to pick me up afterward, too.” As far as she knew, he had never been in a position to see her directly after a hunt. She'd only ever had Dembe pick her up, and she knew he was very accustomed to the way she and Red would look. They always cleaned themselves up when they were done eating, but there was only so much that could be done in dragon form.

“You'll be tired, anyway, right? It's not a problem, Liz.”

Her instinct was still to refuse. On the other hand, the idea of just packing it in and going home now was intolerable. She would explode. Possibly literally, which wouldn't be good for anyone. “Fine.” She stared out the window. “Thank you.” She gave him an overview of the directions. “You two aren't going to starve, by doing this detour before you eat?”

“Hardly,” said Samar. “I don't have plans until later tonight.”

“We'll be fine,” Ressler said.

Liz didn't speak, other than to give directions, until they arrived in the clearing where Dembe usually parked. “Okay. Thanks. I'll, um, I'll probably only be an hour or so. But I'll let you know when I'm done.”

“Sounds good,” said Ressler. One corner of his mouth lifted. “Is it weird if I tell you to have fun?”

She snorted. “Maybe, but I'll take it in the spirit it's intended. Good night, Samar.”

“Good night.”

She could feel them both watching as she exited the car and transformed as soon as there was space. Even though the evening air wasn't warm, she took a moment just to relax as she wouldn't have been able to if she hadn't come here. Then she leaped into the air and left her friends behind.

This had absolutely been necessary. Liz felt better already, even though there were fewer thermals to catch at this time of day which meant she had to work a little harder to stay in the air. Her headache had vanished. But now she was very hungry, so she didn't wait long at all before starting to look for prey.

At first it seemed like she might have missed her chance, after all. Then she saw movement, and when she honed in on it, there was definitely a small herd of deer fleeing from something. It was a bear, she saw with some surprise. That was a new one for her. The creature had evidently snatched a young fawn, dispersing the rest of them.

She could still track the other deer, Liz knew. On the other hand, bears weren't all that fast, from what she remembered learning. And unlike deer, this bear might be big enough to satisfy her by itself. That, plus the additional challenge and novelty of going after another predator, decided the question for her. She dove.

The bear noticed her and reared up from its own meal to swing at her just before she struck. Its claws weren't long enough to cause much damage, but that didn't mean it wasn't going to leave a mark. Liz took to the air once more to see whether she needed to attack again, hissing slightly at the stinging on her foreleg. But the bear was clearly dead, next to the torn-apart fawn it had killed. She landed again.

Once she was done with both (there was no reason to let the fawn go to waste), she started to clean herself off. By this point, the sun was well and truly setting. She couldn't spend much more time out here, as much as it had been good to get away from the craziness that made up her human life. _Ressler,_ she said, once she'd found his mental presence, _I'll be ready to go in maybe twenty, twenty-five minutes._ That would give her time to finish cleaning herself, as well as just to sit for a few minutes before she transformed back. She felt Ressler's acknowledgement.

Twenty or so minutes later, when Liz landed back in the clearing, the car wasn't there yet. That allowed her to shift back to her human form and give herself a once-over. At least her clothes couldn't get blood on them from this. But as usual, there were smudges on her hands that she hadn't been able to remove – and she didn't have a compact with her, so she had no idea what her face looked like. Past experience allowed her to guess it wasn't clean. And now, the headlights from the SUV were approaching, so there was nothing she could do about it.

With one final, futile swipe of her hands across the area around her mouth, she gave up and waited for Ressler to get close. Hopefully she wasn't too gross. Either way, the satisfaction of a successful hunt still outweighed any nerves she meet feel about how her partner might react. She let herself into the passenger side when he pulled up.

“Hey,” he said. “How was it?”

“Just what I needed,” she said. “Did you get dinner?”

“Yeah.” His hand moved to the gear shift, and then he made a quiet exclamation and reached across to her left hand, instead.

Startled, Liz pulled it away. “What?”

“Did you have to fight some other predator tonight?”

Liz looked down at her hand. In the dim light coming in from the headlights, she saw the faint scratches on her left wrist that he must have been looking at. She traced them with her other hand. “'Fight' implies it was a fair contest.”

Ressler looked up at her, eyes wide. “What the hell other predators are even out here?”

“Bears, apparently,” Liz told him, her voice even. “Well, there was at least one.”

“But not anymore?” His eyes were still wide.

“No,” she said. “I don't know if there are any others, but that one's definitely gone.”

He shook his head. “I just figured you normally went for deer.”

“I do,” she said, now smiling at his amazement. “But then I saw the bear.”

“And you're okay,” he said, after a pause.

She nodded. “The scratches will probably be gone by tomorrow, Ressler.” When he reached out again to run his own fingers over them, she let him, although he had to be able to see the dried blood lower down on her hand that wasn't hers. “It barely even hurt for a minute.”

“Okay,” he said. “It could have bitten you, though. That would have been worse.”

“Ressler, do you really want me to give you a play-by-play? There was no way the bear was going to bite me. It was lucky to have any time to react.” She had almost taken off its head, but she didn't see any reason to tell him that. Instead, she sighed, moving her hand back to her lap. “Of all the things you could worry about, please don't add this to the list. There is nothing, in terms of wildlife, that's dangerous to me.” Of that, she had no doubt.

“Sorry. Yeah. Of course you're right,” Ressler said, turning his attention back to driving. They drove for a minute or so in silence. Liz's eyelids were starting to get heavy before he spoke again. “It is hard for me to imagine, though.”

“What is?” Liz asked, with a yawn.

“You fighting – sorry, attacking and taking down a bear,” he said, but he was smiling.

“It's possible you're trying to picture the wrong me,” she told him.

“Maybe so. Although, considering you and that dog in the park, I should probably do my best to be able to picture either version of you being able to take on whatever might come at you,” he said.

Liz laughed. “I'm not planning to face down any wild beasts in my human form anytime soon, though. Just so you know.”

“Still. I guess I'll take the zoo off the list of places we might go together for a date,” Ressler said.

Liz winced. “Ooh. I hadn't thought of that. I don't want to make kids cry by scaring all the other animals away.”

“The 'other' animals?” Ressler repeated, eyebrows raised.

Liz shrugged. “Well, humans and dragons are animals.” She hadn't quite meant to phrase her comment that way, but her explanation was true enough. And her partner didn't push the issue any further.

Despite the fact that the trip wasn't that long, Ressler had to wake her up when they reached the apartment. “Hey, we're home.”

She sat up and stretched. “Mmm. What time is it?”

“It's about eight thirty.”

She huffed out a breath. “Well, I'm probably going to go to bed after I shower, even though it's early. Sorry I haven't been much company for you tonight.”

He got out of the car and then went around to open her door. “That's all right. I know you were stressed today. How's your head, by the way?”

She accepted his hand to help her stand up. “Totally fine. The headache went away almost as soon as I transformed.”

“That's convenient,” said Ressler.

“Not really,” she said. “Even if that's what I need every time I have a headache, which I doubt, it's not like I can transform whenever I want.”

When they reached their apartments, Ressler paused. “Good night, Liz.” He put a hand to her face and made as if to kiss her.

She recoiled. “Ressler, I – I haven't had that shower yet.” Her cheeks warmed, and she ducked her head.

“I know,” he said, and gently turned her face back toward him. Then he kissed her lightly, leaving it at that, and told her, “Sleep well.”

“You, too,” she said, past the sudden lump in her throat.

As she got ready for bed that night, she reflected that there were still a lot of reasons to be thankful, despite the new and varied stresses she faced every day. One of them was definitely her partner. Though she missed him a little when she lay down to sleep, her rest was deep and dreamless.

~~~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! We still have more in this universe to share, but we hope you've enjoyed it.


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